


After The Arcane Storm

by FanficsbyVe



Series: Return from the Hunter's Dream [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once he became a mature Great One, the Hunter sought to leave the Hunter's Dream for good. However, he was not leaving without the Doll. Takes place after the Childhood's Beginning ending. Features the Plain Doll attaining humanity. Contains smut. FINISHED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking from a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of wanting to write a Hunter/Doll smutfic, then realizing that the Doll's state would make the existence of actual consent dubious. So I started playing with ways to change the parameters and then my boyfriend and best friend (also Bloodborne fans) encouraged me to write it. So this is all their fault, basically. XD
> 
> The Plain Doll's name as a human, Evetta, is a reference to her voice actress Evetta Muridasilova, who also voices the Maiden In Black in Demon Souls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter grows up and he and the Doll step outside the Hunter's Dream.

“Mistress Evetta. Mistress Evetta! Please wait, if you would be so kind…”

The tall, silver-haired woman stops and turns in the direction of the sound. She watches as the old woman approaches her. The geriatric lady moves hurriedly, awkwardly forcing her frail body across the crudely paved streets. It looks far too strenuous for her old age and the much younger woman prays she will not fall and break something, or worse.

Thankfully, whatever benevolent power guides her ensures she stays upright. She makes it over to her and almost immediately, she presses an item into her hand. The tall female sees it’s a gilded locket and though she does not ask, she can tell it is precious to the lady. She looks up at her, her eyes radiant.

“A small token for the Vanquishing Hunter. Please ask Him that He hears my prayers for new Golden Age for Yharnam.”

The silver-haired woman nods, quietly realizing that her answer comes easier every time she says it. “Rest assured, I will. He thanks you kindly for your faith, dear lady.”

The smile on the old lady’s lips takes the years out of her face. She bows her head in gratitude before walking away. The tall woman stares at her as she leaves, before snapping out of her reverie. She takes a moment to look at the basket she’s carrying, filled with food, fabrics and other necessities, and it’s there she realizes that this life is becoming startlingly normal to her.

She wasn’t always like this. She didn’t always live here. For an eternity, she didn’t live on this plane of existence nor suffered its joys and burdens. For the longest time, she wasn’t even what most people considered alive.

The Doll never thought she would ever see Yharnam. For most of her existence, it was just some faraway plane, something her creator Gehrman would refer to in passing. He used to describe it as a frightening place, filled with insane zealots and bloodthirsty man-beasts. Even after the good Hunter had slain him and exterminated the Moon Presence as well, she never had much desire to see it. Still, fate was a fickle mistress that apparently had bizarre plans for an inanimate creature living in a dream.

She had been content in the Hunter’s Dream. It was safe, calm and serene, always beautiful and filled with otherworldly light. With the passing of both her creator and the facilitator that was the Moon Presence, the realm still stood and she had happily resigned herself to an eternity alone, tending to the new beating heart of the dream.

She had seen many Hunters as they passed through the Hunter’s Dream. All came to combat the scourge of beasts for different reasons. Most came out of a sense of duty or to obtain a panacea for their life-threatening illnesses. Some came for the adventure or the prestige of slaying an exotic foe. It all mattered little. Most perished, some eventually woke from the dream and all of them paid her little more attention than as a tool to harness their blood echoes.

Until he came along. The good Hunter. A young, shy man that came to obtain Paleblood in order to prolong his life. Not remarkable in any way and hardly distinguishable from the endless stream of hopefuls passing by the gates of Hell. Yet it had been him that woke her up and filled her with the life she had been deprived of for so long. He spoke to her kindly every time he saw her, showing genuine concern for her, and treated her with a kind of respect and dignity that was so foreign to her back then after an eternity under Gehrman’s cold, cruel fist. It had caused her to experience new feelings, emotions she knows now, that she dreaded living without once he would be gone with the disappearance of the pale moon.

Perhaps this had been why she had not stopped him from slaying her creator. Why she had hesitated when he annihilated the Moon Presence as well. The good Hunter’s efforts to stop the beastly curse had brought forth unexpected results. Through the endless consuming of eldritch blood and umbilical cords, along with insight she could not possibly fathom, he had attained the wisdom of the Great Ones as well as their form and abilities. Now a curious blend of human and eldritch being, it was he who sustained the Hunter’s Dream and when she realized he kept her sentient as well, she was determined to care for him, as she had always done with every Hunter that came into this domain.

For a long time, things had been peaceful. She had cared for the now infant Hunter to the best of her abilities, figuring out his needs as she went. She cherished and nurtured him, taking delight in seeing him grow every passing day. There was a certain calmness and rhythm to it, a sense of warmth and security she never realized she craved so badly. Still, even in their refuge, nothing could stay the same forever.

She swore she could feel ice inside of her when after a long time, she heard him speak to her once more. At first, the words were guttural and hard to distinguish and she was sure he was speaking in the foreign tongues of the Great Ones. Perhaps he was, but as time passed, his voice turned more comprehensible again. Despite her initial fear, she had embraced the change eagerly. She had missed the conversations with him and the Hunter’s Dream felt a lot less lonely with someone to talk to. 

This, however, was not the only change. As time went by, the Hunter’s body started to transform too. At first, he was nothing but a mass of human and unearthly appendages, frightening and hideous to behold. Every day, she would discover a new growth on its body and the cries it emitted told her he was in pain. She had tried to aid him best as she could, only for him to growl and demand her to stay away, refusing even the simplest means to ease his agony. 

She had feared for him back then. Feared within the deepest of her being that whatever had taken hold of him would consume him. Would the eldritch knowledge inside him drive him mad? Or would he succumb to this process and be cut from the dream forever, damning her life as well? It drove her crazy with despair just thinking about it, but just when she thought she could not take it anymore, the most bizarre thing happened. 

The nightmarish growths and appendages ceased to multiply. Instead, the heavily altered mass of flesh started to solidify and the open wounds and puss started to disappear. Within a few days of this process, the mass began to twist and change again, this time shaping itself into deliberate forms. It had taken the Doll a while to realize that the Hunter was shape shifting and back then, she did not recognize any of the forms he took. Snarling monsters with jagged teeth and thick, gray fur. Sleek creatures soft to the touch with blue eyes that could spy things in the dark. Ethereal, colorful creatures with translucent wings and large, scaly creatures with a wingspan that blotted out the sun.

For a while, the Hunter seemed to transform into a new creature every day. Still, he spoke to her again and no longer seemed to be in pain, so the Doll chose not to question it. At least, not until the day the infant Great One started to look frighteningly familiar again. She will never forget waking up from a slumber and checking on the Hunter’s wellbeing, only to find a very tired, very naked human being sitting on the workshop floor, pale as a sheet yet still mustering a grin at and triumphantly stating that he was back. She had simply blinked at him, before stepping up to the nearest chest, getting a pair of Gehrman’s old clothes and asking him worriedly if he was cold.

The Hunter didn’t stop at regaining a human form either. Over time, he became more skilful at changing his appearance, able to pull it off flawlessly and painlessly. Soon after, he started to manipulate the Hunter’s Dream as well. Light and Darkness came and went at his whim, objects and beings were summoned into the Dream and cut from it once more and the landscape changed if he only thought it so. The blood of the Great Ones flowed strongly within him, the Doll could see, and it was only for so long that Gods would settle for a mere dream…

She remembers the day her heart broke when the Hunter made his desire known to leave the Hunter’s Dream and return to the waking world. Back then, she had not understood the feelings that went through her at those words. All she knew was that a strange substance came from her eye, a liquid that rapidly solidified into a stone. She had last experienced this bizarre event when the Hunter had offered her a small hair ornament, but the feeling was not the same. Instead, she felt like her whole world had collapsed on top of her, crushing her ever so slowly. 

She could not blame the Hunter for wanting to return to the waking world. It was his world, after all. Still, for her this Hunter’s Dream was all she had. She had no body to wake up in, no form to sustain her outside of this plane sustained by a Great One. Should he leave, she would simply cease to be. She realized then and there that it was a sacrifice she could no longer make.

The Doll had never contemplated death before. Why should she? Her body was one of inanimate material that never aged and the dream was eternal by design. Besides, the idea of being “gone” did not seem so bad. It seemed like the slumbers she was prone to having, only dreamless and forever. That didn’t seem such a bad fate for a mere creature like a plain Doll. Such simplicity had been comforting back then, but nothing was that simple anymore. 

Ever since the Hunter had entered her life, she had changed. She had experienced things she never had before, of an intensity she wasn’t sure an artificial being could feel. Even if she was just a Doll, something inside her knew she was alive in the Hunter’s Dream. For reasons she could not explain, she could not bear the thought of perishing with it. She did not want to cease feeling or experiencing. Now more than ever, she did not want to die.

She voiced this to the Hunter, with more vehemence that she possibly thought herself capable of. Part of her shivered at doing something so upsetting, but something else told her she was entirely justified. All this time, she had been loyal. To Gehrman, even when he treated her poorly. To the many men and women that came through the Hunter’s Dream, full of fear and questions. To especially this young man, who had treated her with kindness and who had regarded her as more than an inanimate object. It was truly because of him that she felt she needed to take a stand. She was not going to find her mind awakened, only to be cast aside and left to whither.

This is why it surprised her so when the Hunter seemed genuinely hurt. Why, she hadn’t understood at that time. Instead, her mind was sent in flux by what he told her next. He indeed had the intention of leaving the Hunter’s Dream, but he never intended to do so at the cost of her life. She meant too much to him for that. He was not going to leave her in a collapsing plane of existence. Instead, he was planning to take her with him. 

She had not believed him back then. After all, how could she leave the dream if she did not have a vessel to go back to? She was a plain Doll and even if there was a doll in Yharnam, she doubted her conscience could wake up inside an inanimate body. Even if it did, it seemed unlikely the people of Yharnam would respond appropriately to a living, talking Doll. Nevertheless, the Hunter had assured her and only asked her that she would trust him. 

Finally, the day came that the Hunter told her it was time to go. She recalled an uneasy feeling in her stomach that day, like a million tiny snakes were crawling inside of her. Nevertheless, she had decided to have faith in him. She hadn’t protested when he laid her on a bed and lulled her to sleep, telling her that next time she opened her eyes, she would be in Yharnam instead.

The Doll does not remember the transition clearly. It was a lot like dreaming, jumbled and strange, yet somehow more intense. All she can recall was a brief moment of seeming to float through the cosmos, seeing nothing and everything at once. Even now, she wondered if she was in the good Hunter’s mind that time or at least viewing the world from his mind’s eye. She cannot say for sure. All she knows that at some point, everything around her darkened and she felt compelled to open her eyes.

The first thing she felt when she did was an immense cold and dirty sheets below her. She had jolted up and the scream that died in her throat was nearly resurrected when she realized she was in a rundown field hospital, surrounded by tubes, stretchers and rusty needles wherever the eye could see. It frightened her so much that it took several moments for her to realize something even more unsettling. 

When she finally glanced at her hands, her gaze froze. The ball joints she was used to seeing in her fingers were gone. As on instinct, her hands moved to her face and ice seemed to settle into her spine. Her fingers were not met with the familiar cool, smooth porcelain. Instead, she could feel warm skin and, as her hand traced to her chest, a gently pulsing heart right underneath it.

She was certain she would have screamed then, hadn’t she finally become aware of the Hunter at her side. He had calmed her and told her that he would explain after they left this place for a better temporary haven. He had taken her hand and helped her off the bed. He offered her some clothes strikingly similar to her old garb and she dared not ask him where he found those. She was grateful to have some protection against the cold other than her thin undergarments. Once she had dressed, all the while thankful that the Hunter looked away during the process, she allowed him to escort her out of the dreaded clinic and into the streets of Yharnam.

She recalls that the first thing that struck her about Yharnam was how dark and twisted it looked. There was no pleasant, dimmed light like there was in the Hunter’s Dream. This world, filled with crooked houses and mazelike streets, was bathed in the darkest blue, lit by the palest moon in a starless sky. The smells penetrating her nose were both foul and fair and the noises she heard were unlike any other she knew. This new, overwhelming world seemed harsher than the Hunter’s Dream and a lot more frightening as well.

She had clung tightly to the Hunter’s hand as the guided her through this strange place. She had been extremely relieved when, after a terrifying descent down a rundown shaft, he brought her to a door and led her into what looked like a rundown garden. Back then, in her tired, confused state, she had only briefly noted how oddly familiar the building they were heading towards looked. She was simply grateful to be inside of a less terrifying place than the hospital. She had simply lain down on the makeshift bed the Hunter had offered her and closed her eyes, sinking into a vivid, fitful sleep. 

The next morning had been one of learning. The Hunter had risen before her and had prepared them a simple breakfast of bread, fruit and tea. It had been the first time in her life that she ate and drank. As they sat there in silence and she slowly got used to the motions of chewing and swallowing, she finally gathered her courage to ask him the thing she couldn’t bring herself to ask the night before. Just how had he managed to wake her up in Yharnam?

Her companion had been forthcoming with the truth, as ugly as it was. She was indeed no longer a Plain Doll. This new body was human, or at least human in a way only a Great One could envision. The Hunter had managed to obtain a Celestial Minion and restored its form back to its once human state. As the mind inside of it had perished long ago, he had been able to mold it to his wishes. Through the use of Ptnumerian blood and his own, he recreated the body in her image and, once his work was done, he had drawn her conscious out of the Hunter’s Dream and sealed it into this new vessel. 

The Doll had quietly listened to him as he told her. “Human”. She barely knew what that entailed at that point. The world was still a maelstrom of new sensations that somehow seemed to hit her much harder in this body. Even as they sat here, she could feel strange pains and aches that she never felt before and the thought that those were permanent quite scared her at that time.

The Hunter seemed to realize this as well and had immediately taken to teaching her a few things then and there. He had explained she had to eat regularly, at least three times a day, in order to maintain her new body. He also told her the unused remains of food and drink would naturally be expelled from her body every few hours and that she could relieve herself outside or in an outhouse. Additionally, he clarified that sleep would be a necessity from now on, lest she’d become sick and disorientated. Yet most importantly, he assured her that in time, she would get used to all of this and in time, would manage it all without even thinking.

She didn’t entirely believe him back then. After all, how could she possibly remember all these things she never had to worry about before? How could she cope with all the sights, smells, sights, sounds, tastes and sensations that were so overwhelming they made her head hurt? As of that moment, she wondered if leaving the Hunter’s Dream was a mistake and that sentiment only increased by the afternoon of that same day. 

Although the Hunter had told her she should take her time in getting accustomed to her new situation, something inside of her could not be willed into silence. This place looked uncannily like the Hunter’s Dream and something told her there was a reason for this. A strong pull urged her to explore this place, to find answers and somehow put this new incessant nagging in her head to rest. 

Initially, her quest didn’t yield much. She found a few books and notes and she was more than a little surprised to recognize Gehrman’s handwriting in them. Still, as she could not read, it didn’t help her much. Not that it mattered. As she continued her investigation of the space, she started discovering more things she recalled belonging to her master. A walking stick, a pipe and even his old hat… With every find, the disconcerting feeling that Gehrman had once been here grew stronger and when her curiosity drew her to an oddly laid out, worn cloth, her entire being was filled with dread.

She hadn’t been able to understand why, but part of her did not want to touch it. An odd inner voice, her intuition she now understands, warned her that there was something under it that she would not like. Something that would unsettle her even more. Her newly found inquisitiveness, however, told her that whatever was under there might solve the mysteries of that place. Besides, even if she did not like the answers, wasn’t the truth preferable over a lie? That thought was what pushed her forward as her fingers clutched around the fabric and she pulled it away.

Even now, the Doll can’t possibly describe the situation of what she saw in words. Once the cloth was gone, she suddenly found herself staring at her own reflection. However, the likeness she saw was not the result of a mirror surface. Though it resembled her in every way, its gray hair was dull and limp. Its pale eyes were lifeless. The pale skin was made of smooth, cold porcelain. And when she looked down, she saw the joints in its hands that her own were now missing. 

Her scream must have been loud enough to be heard even outside the building. Within seconds, the Hunter came rushing to her aid. His inquiry on what was wrong, however, died in his throat once he laid eyes upon the scene. He quietly walked towards her, almost hesitantly putting his arms around her. She hadn’t understood his gesture at the time, but she did notice how her trembling stopped and the rapid pounding in her chest diminished again. She remained motionless, allowing him to hold her, all the while staring at the horrific discovery she just made.

Once her breathing had returned to normal and she found her words, she turned to him. Using a tone she never thought herself capable of, she demanded to know whether he knew. He admitted that he did and explained that he had found this doll, along with an umbilical cord of a Great One, when he first set foot here. Its exact purpose, he did not know, but he was hypothesized that this inanimate version of her, along with this building, belonged to Gehrman once and were the template for the Hunter’s Dream. The explanation seemed reasonable enough, but for some reason, the Doll realized she wasn’t satisfied with it at all. 

She had limped over to the table where she had left Gehrman’s writings, picking them up and shoving them into the Hunter’s hands. She demanded that he’d read them to her, to see if there was anything in them about this doll she found. If the Hunter was right and she was indeed born from it, why did Gehrman have it here? As long as she remembered, her master had never treated her with any affection. Why did he keep something here that he so obviously did not care for? She needed to know, if she was going to have any peace of mind at all. 

Thus, at her request, the Hunter had started to read. Page after page, a story started forming. A story about a man who was once but a mere toymaker, capable of making the finest contraptions and structures in Yharnam. A man who was there when the Plague of Beasts first befell the city and stepped up to aid the Healing Church when no one else could. A man who got lost in the Hunt and the promise of Eldritch knowledge. Then, there was talk of a female apprentice, a woman named Maria. She had been stunned to see the Hunter's face flash with recognition at that name and he himself confirmed with surprise that he had indeed met the woman during the Hunt, killing her when she tried to attack him. He explained he had noticed the canny resemblance between the two of them at the time, but had not given it too much thought until now and suddenly, he too became very interested in the diary. They read it together and page upon page was dedicated to this woman, who came to Gehrman from Cainhurst to learn about hunting beasts. There was an unrequited longing in the words, bordering on obsessive and eventually, there was her. Or at least, that Doll in the corner. A man who could not have the woman he wanted and used all of his knowledge to craft a doll bearing her likeness, all the while searching for some way to bring her to life somehow.

With every word he read, the Doll could feel something inside her. A strange, unpleasant heat that was starting to boil over rapidly. She didn’t understand it fully back then, but she quickly realized it was linked to Gehrman. 

The doll in the corner was his creation. A mirror image of his apprentice, whom he lusted after. The apprentice, she now realized, she wasn’t and never could have been. Now, she understood why he resented her. It didn’t matter that she loved him unconditionally and helped him best she could. She was a being who looked like this Maria but wasn’t, through no fault of her own, and that was something he could apparently never forgive her for. 

The Hunter had realized she was in a bad state and reached out again. Unlike before, however, she found herself not in the mood to be touched. She pulled away from him, her mind still mulling over what she had just found out. The intense fire inside of her seemed to be growing and suddenly, her companion’s innocent question whether she was alright formed the wick needed to direct it. She snapped at him ferociously, spewing her venom over the sense of injustice she felt for the first time. 

“I didn’t ask to exist!” she recalled herself shouting at him. “I didn’t ask to look like his apprentice! To be like this...Maria! I didn’t ask to be something else than what he hoped for! Even if he missed her…. Even if it hurt seeing me and knowing I was not her… He shouldn’t have treated me like this! Treated me like I was just some…thing that couldn’t even feel! It’s awful! It’s disgusting! It’s just so…unfair!”

That was the first time in her life that she experienced anger and also the first time she shed real, human tears. It was like a fire raging inside of her, burning its way through her body and rapidly devouring any other emotions she had. She almost wished the fire was real at that point, if only so she could use it to burn that horrible, lifeless doll in the room.

Thankfully, the Hunter had managed to talk her out of it. He told her that Gehrman had indeed done her wrong, in ways that were utterly unforgivable. In fact, he didn’t think she ever should. Even so, this lifeless doll represented someone. It was a memorial to someone who had nothing to do with the wrongdoing that had taken place between her and Gehrman. It seemed wrong to him to defile the memory of an innocent person. 

As furious as she had been back then, the Doll had understood he was right. Maria had no part in the injustice he did her. She had been gone long before she even existed. She and her memory didn’t deserve the bear the brunt of her wrath. Even so, that did not change the fact she found the inanimate doll unbearable to look at. As such, she insisted that the Hunter move it somewhere out of sight and out of mind. He didn’t object to the matter and once her lifeless doppelganger was removed, the Doll didn’t know whether to smile or cry again.

In order to distract her, the Hunter had then asked her the oddest question she had ever heard at that point. He had told her that now she was a human, it didn’t seem right for him to simply refer to her as a Doll. Humans had names, not of objects but personal ones. Even he had a name other than “Hunter”, she learned. As such, he asked her what name she wanted to be called. 

The Doll had had no idea how to respond to this. Even in her new human body, she still considered herself the creature she had been before. She had no idea how she was to be called otherwise. The Hunter was so kind to provide her information on female names, but at that specific time, she was so distraught by all the drastic changes that she couldn’t care less.

The next few months were hell on earth for her. While her new body was sturdy enough, she found it was a lot more susceptible to heat and cold. She disliked the fact that she would get sweaty if she exerted herself too much or lost the feeling in her body if she wore clothes that were too thin. She hated the fact her clothes would get dirty and had to be changed regularly or the fact her skin was prone to cuts and bruises when not careful. She often found it hard to keep track of when she last ate, drank or relieved herself, which sometimes led to very embarrassing situations. 

The worst of these had to be that morning when she woke up, only to feel wet between her tighs and discover blood there. She had screamed loud enough to wake up the Hunter and it had taken him at least an hour to calm her down and explain she was not going to die. He had helped her clean up, provided her with special bandages and, after leaving her with some tea and sedatives to combat the hideous stomach pains she was feeling, went out and came back with a biology book explaining a process called "menses". It had been a relief to know the blood loss was not fatal, but back then, the Doll was mostly horrified that every month for a week, she would bleed without dying only to repeat it in the next.

Then there were other people. The area around the workshop belonged to the Cathedral Ward. It was still populated by members of the Healing Church and the many shops and businesses that provided for them. She would always meet them when she and the Hunter ventured out for food and supplies. She would pray every day that they wouldn’t try to talk to her. She had no idea how to instigate a conversation, how to do anything but serve, and she was certain they were simply judging her for her odd appearance and behavior every second they looked at her. 

Thinking about all those things made her even more upset and being able to feel that way somehow made it even worse. Emotions were a strange, overwhelming thing to her. She had had them as a Doll, of course, but aside from an overpowering love and care for the Hunters passing through the Dream, they tended to be muted. In this human body, they were a constant presence, raw and consuming and constantly shifting. It often felt too much for her to take and many times, she wished things could be back to the simple way they were in the Hunter’s Dream.

The only thing that had kept her from giving up on this life had been the Hunter. With the same devotion she had nurtured him when he was an infant Great One, he had taken care of her as well. He was with her day and night, helping her through every single rough moment. He never lost patience with her, no matter how many times she became injured, got sick by unintentionally neglecting herself or had an embarrassing accident. Not only did her help her without ever being angry or upset with her, but she learned many new things from him as well.

He taught her to read and write, enabling her to gather information on her own. He encouraged her to socialize with the people around Yharnam, showing her the many ways she could have a conversation about a multitude of subjects. She was even taught some basic skills like how to mend clothing, work in the garden, dress wounds, make dinner or craft a weapon. Progress on these things was slow, but with his guidance, she kept at it, working towards an undefined future. 

Endless amounts of time went by, filled with constant trial and error, before the Doll one day noticed that her situation was indeed getting better. First, it were small things, like instinctively helping herself to some food and drink when her stomach rumbled, sensing her mensus coming and keeping it from soiling her clothes or going to an outhouse well ahead of time. Yet in time, she noticed other aspects of her life felt more natural too. Like feeling the need to wash herself and her clothes after a particularly active day or making small talk with people she met without thinking anything of it. Over time, her hands became more nimble and callused as well and she found herself able to help the Hunter with several things around their makeshift home without ever sustaining an injury.

She also improved at experiencing the world around her. The constant stream of emotions started to feel natural and rather than trying to suppress them, she embraced and trusted them. She let them guide her through her daily activities and combined them with the information she acquired through her environment. Her reading skills had greatly increased as well and she had started to devour books both informative and entertaining, taking in all the knowledge she could find. She had even found other activities which she pursued purely for fun, such as embroidery, growing flowers and painting. 

By the time the anniversary of her arrival in Yharnam approached, she realized all too well she was no longer the same person. While still ignorant on many human matters, her day to day life had become manageable, often even enjoyable. Her new body felt like her own and she managed to take care of it all by herself. Even though she knew she still needed a lot of time, she also realized she was starting to be content with her human existence. And when that thought was no longer foreign to her, she knew there was one thing left to do.

One night, when the Hunter slept, she had taken her chance. As quietly as she could now make her body move, she started to look around the old workshop. She searched every nook and cranny, until she finally stumbled onto an old, heavy chest outside of the building. She used all her strength to open it and the light of the moon illuminated the one thing she was looking for.

The lifeless doll was quite heavy to move. Not surprising, considering the amount of material that went into making this life-sized likeness. After dragging it proved too much of a hassle, the Doll simply grabbed both arms of her counterpart and draped them over her shoulders, using her back to support the weight. Once she accomplished this, she started the walk to Yharnam’s graveyard, ready to carry out the plan she had been formulating for a while.

The graveyard had been quiet and deserted when she arrived. She had been grateful for it; this was easier to do without anyone asking questions. She dropped her cargo for a brief moment to look for a shovel and started to walk past the headstones, reading each and every one of them thoroughly. Once she found a suitable empty spot, she took off her coat and, after mentally preparing herself, she started to dig.

The work was heavy and exhausting. Not used to this extent of manual labor, the Doll could already feel the aches forming in her back and arms. Soon, her hands were bleeding and she was certain that they would be full of blisters in the morning. She, however, didn’t care. She wasn’t going to stop until she had done what she came for.

After what seems like hours of battling against the dead earth, she had finally managed to create a shallow, human-sized hole. Once she was satisfied, she turned back to retrieve her likeness. She then dragged it over to the hole and put it in there, positioning it like one would a corpse in a casket. Grabbing the nearby shovel again, she looked at the lifeless doll one last time and where she previously felt terror, she now realized she felt nothing at all.

That thing couldn’t harm her. It was beautifully crafted effigy of a woman long gone. It only seemed fair that it'd be buried, to forever be severed from both her and the woman in whose likeness it was made. After all, it was not her. She was neither Maria nor the lifeless doll that now lay there in the opened grave. She never was and never would be. She was her own person, conjured from a dream and now made flesh. 

“I am no longer a plain Doll” she whispered at the grave. “I was never just a plain Doll. I’m Evetta….” 

She smiled quietly at saying that name. A few months ago, she had finally found the answer to the question the Hunter had posed. He had been teaching her how to read and she had come across the name in a book about Great Britain, the Hunter’s country of birth. She had liked the sound of it and asked the Hunter about it. He had explained to her that it was a relatively common girl's name there. It was a pet form of Eve, a prominent figure in the religious mythology of his country. It meant “living one”. She had smiled back then. At last, she knew what she wished to be called in this new life. 

“My name is Evetta and I’m alive.”

With those words, she started to put the earth over the inanimate doll. When it was completely covered, she said a prayer, for the lifeless Doll and Maria, and wished her soul well, wherever it was. She then got up and turned around, leaving the past where it was, never to return.

That was a year ago. It’s been two years now since she left the Hunter’s Dream and sometimes, the Doll has a hard time recalling certain aspects of it. Her life there seemed so simplistic, so limited. She was sure she was happy back then, but she also knows she could never settle for such an existence again in her current state. 

She would miss this world, even if it’s a city as treacherous as Yharnam. She would miss the flowers in spring and colorful leaves in autumn, the cold in winter and the warm rays of sun in summer. The taste of hot tea and the sweetness of the pastries served with them. The ability to feel so many emotions and experience them with other people. The sense of accomplishment when performing a task or the world of imagination she enters when reading. She would not gladly give those up, not even for the safety of the Hunter’s Dream…

As she makes her way through the streets, she lingers at some hawkers to inspect their wares. She always enjoys the wide variety of merchandise sold here and it seems that she is not the only one. Soon, she is joined by another woman. At first, she thinks nothing of it, but the pleasant silence in which she browses is soon shattered. A slur tears through the air and the woman starts to violently argue with one of the merchants. The Doll can’t help but look up. She swears she has heard her voice before…

Her eyes go wide. Next to her is an older woman, with dark-brown skin and ebony hair that already bears gray streaks. Age and experience are carved into her face, but her dark eyes still bear the fierce expression of a woman who refuses to lose a fight. She gasps. Could it be…

“I said we don’t sell to your kind!”

“What do you mean, ‘my kind’? The people who gave their youth to protect all of you from the Scourge of Beasts? In that case, I wonder why I should even pay! My coin is generosity on my part!”

“Hah, your kind never pays for anything! You’re just a filthy outsider, crawling in from Oedon knows where to leech off our Healing Church’s holy blood! If I had my way, I’d run you out of this city like a mangy wolf!”

“I doubt you could even frighten a mangy wolf, let alone me. Just give me my food, I’ll pay you and then I’ll move right along forgetting your ungrateful hide even exists.”

“Get out of my face, you black-skinned beggar, or I'll beat you like the filthy stray dog you are!”

The Doll listened quietly, but inwardly, she is seething. She has been around long enough to fully comprehend the injustice that is taking place. This hawker is refusing to sell this woman food simply because she is not from Yharnam, even though she is willing to pay like everyone else. She knows this is wrong towards the woman. It seems awfully short-sighed on the hawker’s part as well. If this man is trying to earn money, what does it matter who buys his merchandise anyway? She shakes her head, before taking a step in the direction of the fight.

She carefully brushes past the woman and gives a polite smile to the hawker. She then takes some coins out of her basket. “Good day, sir, could I have two mincemeat pies and a ginger beer?”

Almost immediately, the man smiles back at her, blatantly ignoring the woman. “Sure thing, Miss. Mine are the best in all of Yharnam!”

She says nothing as she hands him the money. She delicately takes the food he shoves into her hands and without batting an eyelid, she reaches out to her side to offer the newly bought goods to the woman. Her face turns into one of genuine surprise. The hawker’s face turns into a mask of murder. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The Doll knows she could walk away right now. That would probably be for the best. Even so, the injustice of this situation burns deep and her humanity goes hand in hand with a deep desire for comeuppance. So she stays and answers with a calm, innocent voice.

“I just bought some of the food you’re selling.”

Her answer doesn’t improve the man’s mood. “You just gave my food to that foreigner, you fool! They don’t deserve our charity!”

Inwardly, the Doll finds herself rolling her eyes, but if she could resist playing this game before, she certainly can’t now. When she was still awkwardly adjusting to her human body, she often had no idea how to respond to people who were rude or mean to her. Knowing no other way of conduct, she would just stay sweet and polite. However, as her comprehension of human interaction grew, she quickly realized that by acting calm and friendly she would always confuse those who tried to provoke her and maintain the upper hand. And when her ability to converse and her sense of humor developed, she started to catch on just how devilishly amusing this could be. 

Now eager to engage in this skirmish, she tilts her head, acting confused. “Do those seeking charity often offer to pay for your wares?”

As she had expected, the man fails to catch onto her sarcasm, answering how one would to a child. “That is not the point. These foreigners try to profit of something they had no part in building. Something grand that they have no right to. You seem like a sweet young lady and those are often ruled by emotion, but do not let their pleas fool you. I will not allow a good, upstanding woman to waste food on them. It’s unbecoming.”

Seeing an opening, she responds, her voice remaining sweet. “Forgive me, but I cannot understand that. I am indeed but a sweet young lady, not very worldly at all. But it seems to me that your object in a transaction is to receive money, as much of it as possible, for the merchandise you sell. Once the merchandise is sold, the buyer can do with it as they please. So I could eat your food myself, feed it to a stray dog, throw it in the trash or even simply leave it on the sidewalk to spoil. In my case, I bought it for this woman. As you already have my money, you cannot contest my use of your goods. Is that not how commerce works?”

A quick look at her side reveals the foreign woman is now smirking. She has long since caught onto what the hawker only just realized. He only now understands he’s being played for a fool and his face is turning as red as a tomato. He takes a threatening step in her direction and the Doll can already sense the woman beside her taking on a fighting stance. She, on the other hand, doesn’t move an inch as the man snarls at her. 

“You think you’re being smart, don’t you, you quim? With your big words and book knowledge! Well, it’s people like you that ruin this city! With your ‘enlightened’ nonsense that all men are made equal! With your insistence to provide for those who don’t deserve it! You are an embarassment to your family, to Yharnam and all womenfolk! I feel sorry for whoever is unfortunate enough to marry you! A woman like you will put him in an early grave!”

By now, the Doll can see the foam come out of his mouth as he speaks. Still, she knows she has him right where she wants him. She barely suppresses a disgusted look and instead smiles again, her voice calm and soothing.

“Sir, please. Calm down. You seem like a nice, sweet man, but I simply cannot talk to you when you are being so emotional. It’s unbecoming.” 

The man’s eyes bulge and it’s clear he’s seething, but whatever words he still wanted to fling at her transform into spluttering when he processes the response. He stares at her, incredulous and angry, and she swears she can hear him deflate. The short silence doesn’t last long, however, and she nearly flinches as she hears a snort next to her followed by loud laughter. The woman is leaning on her knees, tears at the corners of her eyes, not even attempting to hide her amusement at the situation. The Doll does manage to keep her composure, but inwardly, she can’t help but be filled with malevolent glee at giving this narrow-minded man what he deserved. Still, she gives him a polite nod before looking at the sky.

“Oh dear, look at the time. I think I must head home. I have a husband to bury.”

With those words, she hands the food and drink over to the woman, before finally walking away. The lady follows her, however, and with her large strides she soon catches up. She looks her in the eye, her expression serious.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.”

The Doll mirrors the expression, her glee temporarily gone. “I beg to differ, Miss. He had no right to treat you how he did.”

The woman lets out a scoff. “There will always be people who think they can treat me like that. I was not born here and with me, that shows more clearly than most. But nevertheless, I thank you. It is not often people in Yharnam show kindness.”

The Doll’s face falls. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She chuckles, displaying a beautiful laugh that shows a row of white teeth. “I’m used to it. Yharnam’s industry does not breed the kindest people. Trust me, the kindest creature I ever met here was a Doll… She was almost as lovely as you.”

Instantly, the Doll freezes. Her pale eyes grow wide and she stares at the woman. The faces of the many Hunters in the Dream pass her by. One lingers. Much younger than the face of the woman in front of her, but otherwise similar. What are the odds that she is wrong?

The woman notices expression and shakes her head, her voice apologetic. “Never mind an old bird. I used to live in this city and am simply passing through. And you simply remind me of someone I used to know...”

Inside her chest, the Doll can feel her heart beat rapidly. She knows now. She knows who this woman is! It’s an old friend, a kind person she last saw a lifetime ago before she stopped dreaming. Someone kind and brave, whom she never thought she would see again, and she can’t express the joy she feels at seeing her in words.

She smiles, heartily this time. “It’s good to see you too, dear Eileen.”

She watches how the older woman freezes. Her mouth falls open and her brown eyes grow wide. She takes her in from head to toe and the Doll can sense how a million questions swarm through her head. In the end, however, she asks none. Instead, she just chuckles again.

“Well, this is Yharnam, after all…” 

The Doll giggles in return and after a brief, comfortable silence, she speaks again. “I have to be somewhere. Will you manage by yourself?”

The Old Crow smiles, the winkles in her face emphasizing her contentment. “I will. My body is old, but I am still strong. Once again, thank you. For everything back then. And for what you just did now.”

It is with those words that the old Hunter of Hunters turns around, meanwhile eating the food provided for her. The Doll smiles as she watches her go. She feels light. Content. As if she is soaring. She remembers the first time when she felt that, when the Hunter gave her that hair ornament he had found. That seems so long ago. Now, she is fully aware of what it means to feel joy. 

It’s with that pleasant thought that she turns around and begins walking again. She still has a long way to go and wants to get there quickly. She wants to be home, to the new book she is reading and where there will be food on the table waiting for her. Home, where she can contemplate the day’s events. Home, where the good Hunter awaits.


	2. The Eldritch Heretics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter and Doll deal with the ununusual blood in their veins, as well as with the looming presence of the Healing Church.

The Cathedral Ward looks majestic and dignified as always. The magnificent building casts a shadow over the entire district, both literally and figuratively. The Doll snorts. If the Healing Church ever had any penchant for subtlety, they lost it a long time ago. It’s quite obvious who runs things in Yharnam. 

She looks around, staring at the Blood Saints as they hand out blood in gruesome rituals and the members of the Choir as they preach and ask for charity. They are here from dawn to dusk, demanding attention whether passers-by are interested in their services or not. Frankly, she can understand why Gehrman chose to seclude himself in the old Hunter’s Workshop and never come out. She and the Hunter likely would have done the same too. That is, if the power struggles in Yharnam had not forced them to relocate to safer pastures. 

It’s a shame, the Doll thinks. She was quite happy living there. She enjoyed the little garden around and the pleasant, compact space of the building itself. It had been a little haven of tranquility amidst an ever changing city. Yet it wasn’t like the Healing Church to let people have nice things. Especially not if they perceived those people as a threat. The good Hunter, as much as he disagreed with that standpoint, was, and still is, a threat. 

It started very early into her existence as a human. Many nights, she would dream and see incredible things. Alien cities, impossible constructions and beings that defied description. Often, she would witness many bizarre events. Sometimes, these took place in Yharnam, but often in places she did not know or didn’t even seem human. Some of it was horrifying, most of it was breathtaking, but never once did she truly feel afraid. Once she woke, most of it would fade from memory and she would be unable to put her experiences into words. Even so, she realized the experiences felt very similar to her transcendence from the Hunter’s Dream and as such, the Hunter seemed like the best person to ask.

Despite her inability to truly describe her dreams, the Hunter seemed to understand. He explained he saw similar things when he dreamed or even when he simply wished to. What he saw and she saw, he told her, was the cosmos in its entirety, past present and future, and all its planes of existence. It was the kind of knowledge Healing Church sects like the Choir or the School of Mensis tried to attain. The kind that would drive a normal man mad. 

Naturally, this had raised questions in the Doll’s mind. If this knowledge was too much for the human mind to take, how come she could dream it without any ill effect? She too was human, after all.

The Hunter’s theory had stunned her at the time. As he had told her the day after she woke in Yharnam, she was not an average human. She was not a child born from the seed of a man and the womb of a woman. She had been created from a being already touched by the cosmos, infused with the blood of a Great One hybrid and that of the ancient Pthumerians. Unlike most in Yharnam, the old blood of the Great Ones was not a foreign substance taken into her body. It was a natural part of this new vessel and therefore, she could withstand the knowledge that came with it without losing her senses. She was literally born from this blood and made man by it, but could not be undone by it. 

The Doll hadn’t known what to make of this. She was literally the first of her kind. What did that mean? What did it mean to witness, and perhaps comprehend, knowledge that no one else but her companion could? She had a hard enough time simply dealing with her newly attained humanity, yet for some reason there was also this part of her that was insatiably curious. 

From that day on, she had regularly conversed with the Hunter about their shared gift of sorts. What it meant. What to do with it? Was it in any way possible to share the knowledge of a great beyond with humanity without damning them? 

He explained to her that he was not certain, but he believed they could. He told her about the Caryll runes and how they conveyed the words of the Great Ones without the use of blood. It had made him wonder if there were other ways and whether humanity could evolve to a higher level without the curse of beasts, the Healing Church or even the whims of the Great Ones. 

She had felt a chill whenever he brought up the Healing Church. For some reason, the Church seemed to regularly appear in her dreams. She would see gruesome blood rituals and screaming people turning to stone, people with ashen skin drinking poisoned water, fire that consumed a district… If the Hunter was right and these dreams were a vision of a world that was, is and would be, then perhaps there was a good reason why Gehrman walked away and never looked back... 

The Hunter had confirmed her fears. He had been honest about what he had found in Old Yharnam and Yahar’Gul, the Hidden Village. He talked about the Choir and the School of Mensis. He even told her about the Cainhurst clan and their tainted blood. Even then, barely comprehending humanity, the Doll had understood one thing. As long as the Healing Church remained, the Hunt would always begin anew.

Even so, both of them had agreed it was not a good idea to oppose the Church as of now. It was hard enough to simply stay alive. Back then, she had not been able to do much for herself and it had only been the Hunter’s foraging in the woods outside the city that kept them fed. It seemed wise not to bring down the wrath of the ones that ruled the city with an iron fist. 

Despite this, the Hunter had not simply rested on his laurels. Whenever he was not busy helping her through the day, he had spent his free time with research. It suited him, she had felt even back then, as he had been an avid learner and enthusiastic university student before he ever learned how to fight in Yharnam. Ever the academic, he had tried his hand at crafting and improving Caryll runes as well as examining the exact properties of beast blood. He had also quietly started to gather information on the Healing Church and wrote everything he found down in many notebooks that soon lay scattered all over the workshop. 

As time passed and the Doll started needing him less, he had begun putting some of his theories into practice. He started to sell his runes in order to supplement their income and after a conversation with her in jest, actually started toying with trying to find cures to counteract the effects of the cursed blood. It was just pipe dreams at first. After all, the cosmos seemed to care very little for human ants losing their minds and provided him with very few answers. Still, his human inquisitiveness had urged him to look into it and actually try to formulate some potential treatments and medicine. Here and there, he would find willing subjects, often poor or incurably sick citizens who had nothing left to live for, and it was with no small surprise of his own when he realized that the first attempts at the impossible were already showing much promise by drastically slowing down the effects of Old Blood. 

Encouraged by this, he had started to seriously contemplate the possibility of halting the curse. When he could, he would descend into the catacombs underneath the city, to study what remained of the Pthumerians and document the fall of their civilization. He studied their blood and the chalices, learning their properties and how they related to the Great Ones’ influence. He contacted clinics and universities that were not affiliated with the Healing Church and shared his research with them. He had been more than a little stunned when some of them agreed that his work had merits and were interested in pooling resources in order to perhaps expand on it.

Even so, the Doll hadn’t expected this to all go very far. Neither had the Hunter, in truth. To him, success was not the main goal. It had been a matter of principle, of combining the knowledge of a Great One with the compassion of a human. It was about perhaps bringing something good to this city or at least attempt to do so. Soon, however, the Doll found out that the good was rarely tolerated in Yharnam. 

It started out small. A few of the people whom had partaken in the Hunter’s experiments somehow found their way to the Workshop. Most of them were simply grateful and wished to express gratitude in some form or another. Others were a bit more…eccentric. Perhaps they had already been touched by the Great Ones during a previous Hunt, because they seemed utterly convinced that the Hunter was not just some well-meaning soul trying to help them. In fact, judging by the strange offerings and hymns they would leave at the Workshop, they seemed to view him as some kind of holy man. Some even maintained that he was truly a Great One himself. 

Even back then, it had disturbed the both of them. Not simply because of the invasiveness of their behavior, that was already disconcerting in itself, but because of their beliefs. Even if these people were merely delusional, their views formed by faith and hope rather than true insight, they were still right about what the Hunter was and above all, careless. To make matters worse, they were both of these things in a city that was all too ready to take their ramblings seriously…

Indeed, some of their new admirers did not know how to hold their tongues. The Doll learned this firsthand when she went out by herself to fetch her and the Hunter some food. Complete strangers would come up and ask for a blessing or give her things without asking, treating her like some kind of divine emissary rather than a normal woman going about her business. Despite remaining polite, it had unnerved her and that feeling only increased when she came face to face with what she now considers one of the most unpleasant people in all of Yharnam. 

Out of nowhere, she had appeared. A dark-haired woman, much shorter than her and as pale as she had been when she was still a Doll. Her robes identified her as a member of the Healing Church and she had a smile on her face. Still, the Doll had sensed it was not a friendly smile. It looked overstretched and unnatural and the woman’s light eyes shone with utter madness. 

“T-there you are. I can just tell… I can tell when I am talking to an enemy of the Healing Church.”

The Doll had merely cocked her head. Her understanding of human interaction had been mediocre at best back then, but she had felt that answering this woman was somehow dangerous. It was not like she was even waiting for a response anyway.

“I…I know who you are. The heretic’s whore. T-the imitation of a woman l-living with an abomination that opposes our teachings!”

Still, the Doll did not answer and the woman continued. “Oh, I-I know what you are! He made you. That one called the Hunter made you. He brought you to life from his own wretched blood! You are tainted! B-both of you are tainted…”

At that moment, fear had settled deep inside her stomach. This woman knew. She somehow knew! She knew who she was, who the Hunter was. How could she? At that point, she was too unnerved to even fully contemplate the possibilities. Her instinct urged her to flee and that was what she did, brushing past the woman and hurriedly walking away.

She actually let out a shriek when the woman suddenly lashed out and grabbed her wrist, clutching it into a vice-like grip while giggling dementedly. “We will find you. You and your dear Hunter. You will pay for your contempt of our Church…”

That had been the moment where the Doll could no longer contain herself. Acting solely out of self-preservation, she had yanked herself loose. The woman had violently smacked against the pavement as a result, but at that moment she couldn’t have cared less as she ran away as fast as her legs could carry her. She had ran the entire way back to the Workshop, not stopping to catch her breath or spare her agonized muscles even once.

The Hunter had immediately noticed her distress and asked her what was wrong. She had told him about the woman, not even realizing that she was crying as she did. The good Hunter hardly seemed to care that she did either and had simply put his arms around her to calm her. Even though he hadn’t shown it, she had been able to tell he was upset too.

It turned out he knew the woman. Her name was Adella and she had once been a Blood Saint of the Healing Church. He had found her during his Hunt and told her to seek shelter at the Oedon Chapel. After the moon had drawn closer, however, the descent of the Great Ones had driven her mad. In spite of this, she had not been given release. A Blood Saint was useful, even in madness and perhaps even more so because of it. It seemed the Healing Church had kept her in their employ as a prophetess of sorts, like a twisted Oracle of Delphi forever trapped amidst her own ravings.

The Doll had listened quietly as he explained this to her and despite her disgust for the way the Blood Saint had treated her, she couldn’t help but also feel pity. How awful must it be to be subjected to the same sights she was without the ability to withstand them? To be used by others who refused to help you and instead perceived your agony as something valuable? To be trapped inside one’s own mind? 

She could barely comprehend something so sad and shared this with her companion. He had smiled at her sentiment, but it wasn’t long before the conversation had turned serious again. He had taken her by the hand and beseeched her that she should not go into Yharnam for a while, at least not at night or to any districts where she didn’t know anyone. If she stayed at the Workshop, she should not let anyone else in but him either. A storm was coming, he told her, and it was best for them to lay low and wait it out. 

She had been extremely frightened when he said that. The Hunter had always been protective of her, but never overbearing. Once he knew she could take care of herself, he had never been bothered by her being out of his sight or exploring Yharnam on her own. The fact he now insisted she stayed near him whenever she could meant that whatever he feared was a big threat indeed. 

For the next few weeks, she had heeded his advice. She was actually glad she did. The atmosphere in the city seemed different somehow. While a great many people were still nice to her or displayed the friendly neutrality one usually would with strangers, she couldn’t help but feel she was often followed. That there were eyes, and not the kind scholars lined their brains with, watching her wherever she went.

The Cathedral Ward seemed to be the worst place of all. She swore everything single person of the cloth was staring at her as she passed by. Most of them looked away when she caught their gaze, but she could tell they were hostile to her. It always caused a knot in her stomach and she made it her objective to return to the safety of the Workshop as soon as she could. That had seemed like the wisest thing to do at the time, but it soon turned out that even her home was no longer a safe haven anymore.

It had been early in the morning. The good Hunter had already risen and had gone into the Forbidden Forest to forage. She had stayed behind, tending to the garden and enjoying the sun. She had been busy harvesting some vegetables for supper when she suddenly noticed white robes near the path to the Workshop.

Right there and then, she had sensed the danger. Even from a distance, she could tell that these were members of the Healing Church. The Choir, she guessed. Seeing them here caused bile in her throat, a terrible sense of violation at them being present in her home. She had already known that they were coming for her, her and the Hunter, but from her crouched position in the garden, she was not sure if they had seen her yet. Either way, she didn’t plan to find out.

She dropped what she was doing and quietly headed back into the Workshop, making sure to lock the doors behind her. She then crawled underneath a desk and waited. She didn’t make a sound and pressed her hands her against her mouth as the pounding of hands against wood suddenly echoed through the quiet space. This kept going for several minutes, before she heard voices outside.

“Our sources said she would be here.”

“Did you think he turned on us? Informed them we were coming?”

“I doubt it. She’s likely here somewhere.”

“Should we not go after him instead? The heretic seems to be a greater threat than some strumpet he shares his bed with.”

“No, we need her. He is a Hunter. If he can kill Beasts, taking him down will not be easy. We will need her if we are to eliminate him. Besides, she’s aiding in heresy all the same.” 

“Very well then. Let us break down this door and see what we find.”

Within moments, the banging resumed, this time louder and more insistently. At that point, the Doll could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. They were trying to break through and she knew the door would only hold for so long. They would make it in here long before the Hunter would be back and in here, she was trapped.

Frantically, she started to look around. She already knew there was no way out; at least none that wouldn’t result in these Choir members cutting her off. Her only option right now was a weapon…

Her eyes nervously shifted around the room. The Hunter had crafted many weapons and was well-trained at their use, but she didn’t have that advantage. She needed something that would be effective without much skill and when she spied the large gear-driven circular saw on the workbench, she knew it was her best chance. 

She had only just managed to reach it when the door splintered to pieces. Within seconds, the white figures had swooped in. They headed straight for her, like a murder of crows descending on carrion, and at that point her mind had simply gone blank. She had thrust the weapon at the first person that came near and hoped for the best.

The effect had been immediate. She could feel the spray of warm blood against her face as her victim perished with ungodly screams. She had closed her eyes, not willing to see how his skin and organs were being ripped open. She had simply pushed the weapon forward, trying to shake off the rapidly dying body and had blindly swung it at the other invaders.

The death of their comrade had scared her attackers for a brief moment, but soon served to only enrage them more. They soon started charging from all sides, evading her frantic swings rather easily. They were far more adept at combat than she was and the weapon she was using was far too heavy for her frame. It wasn’t long before she had tired herself out and the remaining Choir members took their chance.

A hard blow to the head had her fall to her knees and her blurry sight was obscured by a bag being placed over her head. She was then forced to her feet and dragged away. She struggled regularly, doing her best to remove the bag and run, but she was no match for her assailants.

When the damned thing was finally removed from her head, she had been strapped to some kind of wheel-like device. In front of her had been several members of the Choir. One of them, wearing a strange hood not unlike those of the radical Executioners, stood beside her. Alongside him stood a man dressed in white. Their leader, she had assumed. He had walked up to her and told her that he wanted the truth to any questions he asked and if she cooperated, he would not have to hurt her. He insisted he preferred not to and to simply be able to let her go again soon.

The Doll had already caught on that this was a lie. The Healing Church had no intention to let the likes of her go. That or leave her alive for that matter. They weren’t the type of people to suffer competition and the Hunter had set something in motion that was a real threat to their power. Even if she was not a primary target, she was an associate and that was as good as any reason to execute her. 

Even so, if they thought she was to betray him, they were wrong. After all he had done for her and all the things he had enabled to experience, she never could. She knew she was already tied to this wheel to instill fear in her and while she felt it, she didn’t want to give in. Then and there, facing death as a human for the first time, she decided she’d rather let them hurt or kill her than sell him out. 

The questions had been many. How she had come to know the Hunter. Whether they were sexually involved and in what kind of acts. What he preached exactly. Whether she realized that his pursuits were sacrilegious. How many followers they had. Whether they had any secret gatherings or plans to rise up against the Healing Church. Most of these questions just amused her in how laughably paranoid and irrelevant they were. She had remained silent and only answered with an expression that showed she found this conversation embarrassing for everyone involved.

It had soon become clear that the Choir members did not appreciate her attitude. Despite the calm look on her interrogator’s face, she could see the anger brewing behind his eyes. He was clearly not used to victims that showed no fear and non-verbally belittled him for every question he asked. Soon, he had called over the man in the hood and asked him to prepare a threaded cane with bolt paper. He had then asked her one last time to answer his questions and answer truthfully, lest he’d be compelled to use force.

The Doll had fought to urge to tremble at this. Here she was, in some forsaken area in a derelict building. She was surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than to see her dead and to hurt her tremendously before finally killing her. The Hunter was far away; she wasn’t even sure he had noticed her absence yet. Or perhaps, he had simply been captured by another group of these people and was in a similar situation…

Even so, she had said nothing and simply braced herself for the inevitable, fighting the urge to scream and empty her bladder then and there. She was not going to give the Healing Church…these monsters…the satisfaction. As such, she simply stared down the man in the hood as he approached her and suppressed a cry as he started to pull on the front of her clothing. 

“Unhand her.”

A harsh voice had reverberated through the building. One she would have recognized anywhere. She looked up, only to find the Hunter standing there. She had no idea how he had managed to get here, but something told her he hadn’t come here by foot. A strange kind of aura seemed to come off him in waves and to say he was in a foul mood was an understatement.

The Choir members were alerted to his presence as well. A few of them reached for their weapons. Others readied an occult spell. Within moments, the interrogator had risen. He motioned his brethren to stand down and called out to him.

“Hunter, you are under arrest for heresy, blasphemy and contempt of the Healing Church. Lay down your arms and come quietly, so that you may be tried for your misdeeds.”

The good Hunter had not complied. “Did you not hear me? I said, unhand her.”

The Doll couldn’t help but notice the Hunter’s voice at that moment. The kind, somewhat shy man she knew was gone. Instead, his voice was even and fearless. What he said was not some kind of plea or bravura. It was an unmistakable order and underneath it, there brewed a strange kind of unsettling energy.

The interrogator did not notice this. Perhaps, she figured, he had been trained not to notice. He took another step forward, his voice haughty and matter of fact.

“I cannot. Your companion is to be tried same as you. She too is a heretic and even murdered a member of the Church in cold blood.”

Even from where she was, the Doll could see an icy grin appear on the Hunter’s face. “Cold blood? Is that how it is called nowadays when you defend yourself against an attacker who violently invaded your home? Spare me the bureaucratic tripe. Let her go, before I lose my patience.”

By now, the atmosphere started to thicken and she had felt it wasn’t because of the tension. An inhuman force had slithered in here at the same time the Hunter did. It felt like an otherworldly beast, ravenous and irate, raging behind a weak fence that only barely kept it from violently clawing its way out. Still, her attackers did not acknowledge it, least of all the interrogator.

“Even now, you dare to disrespect our Holy institution? Then there is no hope for you. Slay him, brothers and sisters! Let us burn his body and open his skull, to attain what is rightfully ours and never meant to be his!”

The others had obeyed instantly. Weapons in hand, those closest to the Hunter had charged, while several others unleashed devastating arcane spells. The Doll could only watch in absolute horror as the barrage came down upon her companion, helpless to do anything.

Then, just like that, the room turned ice cold. Before even a bullet could touch him, all projectiles fell from the air by a sudden pull of gravity. Out of nowhere, an unnatural darkness appeared and tore into every nook and cranny, before the walls started to sprout a pulsating fleshy residue. Unintelligible murmurs vibrated off the membrane, taunting and threatening, and the boards on the floor seemed to melt away into a black sea of despair.

Horrific, slobbery noises filled the space as a million aberrant limbs burst forth through the film. Above it, a blood red heaven manifested onto the ceiling, weeping a substance that was not quite blood or water, and soon the Doll realized everyone in the space was petrified except her. Their horrified expressions showed that they were still fully conscious, however, and she soon noticed that they had started to bleed from every orifice. 

Amidst all it was the Hunter. He simply stood, calmly and confidently. His human veneer was rapidly disintegrating, its features morphing into eldritch traits that defied human language. Still, the Doll had sensed some humanity in him and that moment, she understood. The force he had just unleashed seemed to feed off his will and with every second he stared at the members of the Choir, it grew more powerful. It was not this display of alien power that was dangerous; it was the human anger with which he wielded it. When he spoke, that anger was loud and clear, unchanged in a voice that sounded like the thundering of the cosmos itself. 

“You wish to uncover what I know? Very well then. You shall have it. All I know and more…”

It had been that exact moment when she heard the first screams. She had looked over to the Choir members closest to her. What she saw was the image no Blood Moon could ever conceive. 

Out of nowhere, the skin of her tormentors’ faces started to writhe and crawl. Blood and puss flowed freely as it was pushed apart and bulges of various sizes worked to break free. Countless eyes started to burrow their way out of their flesh, peering around independently of each other. Their numbers increased by the second and as the victims started to claw at their own clothing, she could see they were spreading to the rest of their bodies as well.

She had watched it all speechlessly, still bound to the wheel and unable to do anything but close her eyes and look away. Still, she had not and she had not felt fear either. Neither did she take joy out of the situation. All she had been able to do was watch with neutral fascination, watching the men and women learn the folly of craving knowledge that was never meant for them to be seen.

By now, it was no longer just eyes that afflicted the Choir members. The same fleshy residue that ran rampant across the walls started to grow amidst the eyeballs, spreading rapidly before drilling back into the flesh. Soon, the continuous screaming of the hosts started to fade as the mass started to take over, consuming them and then itself until there was finally nothing left but the clothes they had once worn.

The moment, the darkness disappeared from the room, as quickly and suddenly as it came. The black sea turned back into wood, the red sky into a dull, gray ceiling. The walls were covered by nothing but faded, chipped paint. Within the blink of an eye, everything had turned normal again. Only the Choir members were no more, with the exception of one woman who had fallen to her knees, shaking and crying.

The Hunter had simply walked up to her, his human appearance back in place and his once again normal voice bearing a tone of cold finality. “I have a task for you. Go back to the Cathedral Ward. Tell them what you have seen here and let them know this. You have crossed a line and if you are ever to come after me or Evetta again, I will know. And you will know that I do, for then the Healing Church will be nothing but dust.”

The Choir woman had instantly taken this request to heart. Feebly, she had risen back to her feet before starting to run, as fast as her still trembling legs could carry her. The Hunter had simply watched her go, but seemed to have quickly forgotten about her as he then rushed towards the Doll.

“Evetta! Evetta, are you alright?”

In truth, the Doll had found that question rather pointless. Nothing about her situation seemed particularly alright. Even so, she had not been able to get that past her lips. She had simply been grateful when he ran up to her and quickly undid her binds. She didn’t even realize she was completely limp until she literally slid off the wheel. She would have probably kissed the ground, had it not been for the Hunter’s quick reflexes. He easily caught her in his arms, examining the wound on her head while an endless stream of words poured from his mouth.

“I came home and found the Workshop in shambles! I found the corpse and the blood! I knew they had come for you then! I searched in my mind and tried to find you! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

She hadn’t even realized she was crying. It was the silent kind, where tears run down one’s eyes but there was no energy left for sound. The Hunter had been swift to notice. He took her face in his hands and gently wiped away her tears with his thumbs. His face moved closed to hers and before she even fully realized it, he had put his lips to hers.

Of course, she had known what a kiss was by then. She had watched people enough to understand it was an expression of affection of varying degrees. Still, that had been the first time she had been on the receiving end of one. It wasn’t a chaste kiss either. It was rough and intense, almost desperate, and for some reason, she felt herself getting warm all over. It was odd, but not at all unpleasant. She found that she liked his lips there, but the situation had rendered her utterly clueless on how to respond to it.

Still, just like that, the moment passed. Out of nowhere, the Hunter had pulled back, a rather embarrassed expression on his face. His face was flushed and he stammered.

“I… I’m sorry. That was not my place... I’m so glad I found you in time… I don’t know what I’d do if they…”

The Doll had waited for him to finish his sentence, but he had gotten up and helped her up as well. “Come. Let’s get out of this damned place, get our belongings at the Workshop and go somewhere safe…”

Not about to argue with that suggestion, the Doll had eagerly followed him out of the building. That night was the one where she saw the mysterious Yahar’Gul, the Unseen Village controlled by the Healing Church, which so many citizens whispered about in hushed, frightened tones. Then and there, she had decided she despised the place and never wanted to see it again. Little did she know that just as she was forming this opinion, she would never have to.

Soon, she and the Hunter were no longer alone. An ever increasing group of people started to emerge from the buildings and follow them. Some of them were members of the Choir, others looked like citizens. Still, all of them had the same glazed over look in their eyes. They seemed to walk as if in trance, as if they were not in control of what they were doing. They quietly followed her and the Hunter, matching them step for step, following them down the path that led away from Yahar’Gul.

It had been at that exact moment that a deafening roar tore through the air. A wave of heat suddenly lapped at the Doll’s back and when she turned around, she saw nothing but flames. It was not the kind of fire she would use to cook or keep warm either. It was horrific blue blaze with green and black tongues, unlike anything she suspected existed on this earth. It rapidly started to devour wood and stone, tumbling buildings that had proudly stood for centuries. The flames screamed as they raged through the district, echoing loudly through the streets like the release of thousands of souls. 

It was impossible that such a spectacle remained unnoticed for long. Indeed, as they had entered the Cathedral Ward a large crowd was already forming. They stood enraptured as they listened and watched the blaze in the distance, before casting curious looks at her and the Hunter, as well as the large group of dazed people that followed behind them. 

It was then that this ragtag group seemed to regain their faculties. The blank stares disappeared from their faces and they looked around in confusion. As people ran up to ask them about the fire, they shook their heads without understanding and could only turn around and watch with abject horror. The Doll had felt their eyes on her and the Hunter. The eyes of the crowd as well. After all, they were clearly the only people here who did not seem surprised or even disturbed and that made them as good a source for answers as any. 

The good Hunter had not batted an eyelid. Taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers, he had simply pushed past the crowd. He had ignored any questions and pleas as he carefully pulled her along, giving her a look that told her to simply keep walking.

And walking they did. All the way through the Cathedral Ward, not stopping until they had reached the Workshop. Once there, they had rapidly gathered everything of value and left without looking back. They started their long hike through the Forbidden Woods, too wary to even feel the soreness of their own feet. It had taken several hours to make their way through the forest, but they had not stopped once until they reached their destination. Byrgenwerth, the long abandoned college where it all began.

That night, as they nibbled onto some rabbit haunch and mushrooms obtained during their journey, they had discussed their situation. The eldritch horrors and the awkward kiss never came up, but both of them had agreed that the Healing Church would probably not come for them for a long time. Still, they knew what had just happened would change Yharnam forever and that while neither one of them had any intention of leaving, it was perhaps best not to live in the city anymore. This college was old, but still in a proper state and could suit them well as a home. Few would dare to traverse the Forbidden Forest and with some proper adjustments, they would be safe there.

The Doll had loathed the fact they could no longer return to the Workshop. In the one and a half year they had stayed there, it had truly become her home. It had been small and cozy, while Byrgenwerth seemed large and unwelcoming. She didn’t like the fact they would have to start over so soon, but she had also understood that living in a dangerous place was not feasible either. Then and there, she decided to make the best of it. A decision further encouraged when the Hunter told her that he wanted her to learn how to defend herself and, as she was not much for weaponry, offered to start teaching her how to use arcane spells.

That was half a year ago. Much has changed in those six months. The Doll realizes she now feels quite at home in Byrgenwerth, a fact she admits is helped by the many books that are still there. By now, the large building resembles something of a home again and she has found she can continue life much in the same way as she did before.

The Forbidden Forest, as they hoped, luckily seems to scares off most unwanted admirers. This is a good thing. After the burning of Yahar’Gul, the people’s perception of them has changed dramatically. They have proven themselves a force capable of challenging the Church and the discontent that was previously kept silent is starting to bubble to the surface, aided by an unintentional act of revolution. This has led to more people, both of reason and of faith, seeking them out and frankly, she is glad they can only do so in the city, but not at the place she considers private.

Thankfully, however, the Healing Church has not come calling since. That has truly been a relief. In time, she also lost her fear of returning to the city by herself. Her skill with arcane spells improves by the day and it gives her a sense of security. So far, she has only had to use them once, on some Cainhurst upstarts when they fancied her and the Hunter a viable pawn in their unending skirmish with the Church. It had been a rather definitive answer to their summons and so far, she has not heard from them either. Even so, she still practices her arcane knowledge every day and while she enjoys it thoroughly, she also hopes she never has to use it again.

As such, it is with a sense of confidence that she strides across the Cathedral Ward now. She remains indifferent to the many eyes that stare at her, both praising and condemning her. She makes her way to one of the smaller streets near the border with old Yharnam, ducking into a small tailor shop where she has one last errand to run before returning home.

The woman behind the counter, a small but wiry lady, gives her a smile. “Well, look at that. Mary Magdalene has come to seek shelter at my shop.”

The Doll smiles back, catching onto her joke. “Do not worry, I lost the seven demons long ago. Are you well, Fiona?”

Fiona rolls her green eyes, wiping some of her messy red hair out of her face. “As well as can be. It seems the Healing Church had increased their number of parlor tricks and street performances. I have to listen to their speeches all day now. The increased schedule does not increase their credibility, however.”

The Doll suppresses a chuckle. Fiona is one of the very few people in Yharnam that never touched the Old Blood. She hails from Ireland, a country close to the good Hunter’s homeland, and has abandoned any form of religion long ago. An “a-theist”, she thinks the Hunter called her. Someone who does not believe in a higher power. She finds she is quite thankful that there are people like that. She does not suspect her and the Hunter to be anything but normal people nor does she believe in the propaganda of the Healing Church. As such, she can always trust this woman to be friendly with her and treat her like a normal human being.

She peers into the store, looking for the reason of her errand. “Is he here?”

Fiona nods. “He is. Has been waiting for you for the last half hour. I’ll call him.”

She calls out and soon, an older man appears from the back of the store. He looks disheveled and worn, but his body is still strong. He tips his hat by way of greeting and the Doll bows from the waist. 

“Hunter Djura.”

“Evetta. Have you brought what I asked for?”

The Doll nods. She reaches into her basket and takes out a small parcel. The retired hunter takes it eagerly. He looks it over a few times, before putting it under his coat. He then reaches for a parcel of his own, urging her to take it.

She can already feel all the vials underneath the paper. Samples, she knows. Blood of the beasts lingering in Old Yharnam, obtained by Djura through his eccentric but humane means. His payment in exchange for the experimental cures the Hunter develops. A useful arrangement, the Doll has found out. Djura’s contributions are often useful, sometimes even more useful than those of hospitals and universities, and the good Hunter has obtained plenty of knowledge by studying the victims of the first Scourge of Beasts. 

It had been her idea to contact him at the time. He too had come to the Hunter’s Dream long ago and she had always remembered him as a kind, compassionate man. When she learned he was still alive, and still as caring about the fate of Yharnam’s Beasts as ever, she realized he might be of great help to the Hunter’s research. By now, she has been proven right many times over. 

“Once again, you have my thanks, dear Djura. You will know when we have discovered something new.”

The retired hunter grins. “I certainly hope so. I don’t know what you two are doing at Byrgenwerth, but things are becoming better in Old Yharnam. Perhaps I should start listening to those zealots milling about the city and erect a church for you two instead.”

Evetta deflects his joke with a laugh and Fiona snorts. “A church dedicated to science? I’d attend. Though try to tell that to the religious fools fawning over the Hunter. By now, Evetta and her darling have been called prophets, saints, demigods and gods, all varying on whom you ask. I don’t believe any of these things, honestly. But I do believe that what you two are doing is a good thing. Something that has been long overdue.”

The Doll smiles at her friend. She will never know the truth about her existence or the Hunter’s and as far as she’s concerned, she never needs to. Besides, they do not need to be Gods to anyone. Gods only have worshippers; she prefers being someone with reliable friends. 

She casts a glance outside. The sun seems to be moving across the sky rather rapidly. She still has quite a walk ahead of her to make it back home and she would rather not be late. She turns to her compatriots. 

“It pains me to say, but the Hunter is waiting for me. I must take my leave. I assume you can find your way home without me.”

Djura simply nods at her, but Fiona can’t help but tease her a little more. “Ah, must you forsake your friends to tend to the man of the house? When did you get married and more importantly, why did you not invite me?” 

The Doll smiles as she starts to walk out the store. “I always thought it was better to elope. I will see you again soon, Fiona. We can catch up then.”

Her friend waves at her and she returns the gesture as she finally steps outside. She takes a deep breath, feeling light and happy as she prepares to make her way home. A sentiment that soon disappears as a familiar face suddenly appears before her. 

“H-how dare you s-still show your face here!”

The Doll halts and looks Adella over. She hasn’t changed all that much. She is still invasive. Still mad. Still flaunted by the Healing Church as a blessed woman instead of a victim. Above all, she is still bent on seeing harm come to her and the Hunter.

“I-I know what you did…in Yahar’Gul! Y-You are m-murderers, both of you! Y-you are conspiring in our Church’s downfall as we speak! Y-you shall be punished!”

As she rants and raves, all the Doll can do is watch her in silence. It is then and there that she realizes just how much she had changed. Nothing about that overstretched smile or those unhinged eyes unsettles her anymore. She is no longer scared of the Healing Church’s demented Pythia. Her little outing to Yahar’Gul has cured her of that. The only thing she feels now is annoyance.

She takes a step towards the Blood Saint. The movement seems to startle her and for a moment, she can read hesitance in the woman’s face. The Doll regards her with an even expression, stretching up to her full height to show the five inches she has over her. 

“Move.”

Adella stares back her, but doesn’t comply. After several more tense moments, the Doll’s patience runs out. She moves forward and shoulders right past the Blood Saint without second thought. The woman’s stumbles, clearly not expecting any resistance at all. As she struggles to maintain her balance, she shouts after her, uttering the kind of threats that only a mad zealot can. The Doll, however, cannot bother to listen. She has a home to go to, one where an inhuman being waits, one who is somehow far more human than this woman and her brethren.

She knows the danger of the Healing Church is very real, even now. Still, that does not mean she plans to give in. Fear is a powerful tool to any institution and when all critics are silenced by fear, corruption begins. And by now, Yharnam has been burdened by corruption long enough, bent under the weight of tainted blood and beasts. She, and the Hunter, were born from the consequences of this corruption and perhaps, it is time that those born from it will also be the ones to attempt ending it.

So let them talk, she thinks. Let them speak ill of her. Let them brand her and the good Hunter as heretics. After all, she is quite certain that the Healing Church has never quite met heretics like them. Eldritch heretics who are not quite amoral, reaching out to the cosmos from once-abandoned Byrgenwerth.


	3. Union of New Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter and Doll realize their feelings regarded each other have forever changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go, the last chapter. This one contains smut. The whole point of the fic, which somehow got very complicated along the way. 
> 
> I once again give a shoutout to my boyfriend and best friend for encouraging me to write this and go through with it. Hope you guys at least get a kick out of this. XD

“Evetta, is that you?”

A smile instantly spreads across her face when the Doll hears the Hunter’s voice. She can’t help but notice the sense of happiness in it. He sounds like he’s been waiting for her and something tells her it is not because she has the items needed to continue his research.

She closes the heavy doors behind her and calls in the direction the sound came from. “Yes. I got us supplies for the rest of the week. And I retrieved the sample vials from Djura. He was happy with the new shipment.”

She spies her companion slide down one of the ladders, making his way towards her. He takes the basket from her, insisting to carry it. She lets him, even though she has attained the strength to move heavier stuff by herself long ago.

“Good to hear. So, did anything interesting happen in the city today?”

As they walk towards the living area, she tells him about her day. About the old woman, Eileen, the vendor, Djura, Fiona and her run-in with Sister Adella. He listens with interest, all the while helping her put away all the stuff she brought. When she is finished with her story, she turns to him.

“And what about you, good Hunter?”

He chuckles. “Will you ever stop calling me that?”

She smiles lightly. By now, she already knows his true name for years, but old habits die hard. Some may never die at all.

“Perhaps, if it snows on a hot summer day.”

He grins as he reaches the kitchen and starts putting stuff away. “Not much. I took notes on some ongoing experiments and cleaned out a storage room. That and Castle Cainhurst sent us another summons.”

The tired sigh leaves her mouth before she can stop it. “Have they learned nothing?”

She thinks of the last time she had the displeasure of dealing with the scions of this ever-changing House. They had tried to corner her in a quieter street of Central Yharnam after their beloved Queen Annalise did not take the Hunter’s refusal to her invitation very well. It would surely have been a repeat of her venture at Yahar’Gul, had she not come equipped with several arcane tools this time. The affair ended up being rather messy and since then, the Cainhurst clan has been far less overt in their attempts to “extend invitation”.

Indeed, the Hunter shrugs. “They will. Eventually. How many of theirs they wish to lose on the way is their concern.”

The Doll cannot help but notice the evenness in his voice as he says. The young man who avoided conflict and wished not to anger the Healing Church is gone and will likely never return. Now, he seems almost eager for another confrontation. He no longer cares for playing nice with the ruling forces of Yharnam. Not since they provoked him by trying to hurt her. 

She turns to him as she helps him put the stuff away, before grinding some of the coffee beans she brought. “What do you think Cainhurst wants of us anyway?”

The Hunter shrugs. “My guess is to stop my research. Should the effects of the Old Blood be cured, they can no longer pursue their agenda. Either that or they believe Adella’s ramblings as well and are looking for a more…direct way for their Queen to bear a child of blood…”

She hears his dejected tone and she can’t help but tease him a little. “You have no designs to be an ancestor to royalty?”

He rolls his eyes with a smile, sneaking one of the cookies from her basket. “I am a fusion of human and Great One blood. I doubt it is wise to produce any offspring somehow more eldritch.”

She smirks as she puts on a kettle of water. “Thus, you do not fancy tall and blond.”

He laughs, almost awkwardly. “At the very least, I do not fancy vampiric.”

He grabs a few cups and offers them to pour the coffee. “Let us have this in the living room and chat for a while. I missed you today.”

She hides a smile as he says that. Though she will never say it out loud, she enjoys the fact that he likes her company. It’s nice to know that he truly appreciates her and not just keeps her around because he considers her his responsibility. It is, quite simply, pleasant to know that he _loves_ her in his own way. 

Love was possibly one of the hardest emotions the Doll ever had to comprehend when she came to Yharnam. It had been so simple before she became human. She had felt the compulsion to love anyone who came through the Hunter’s Dream and tend to their needs. Whether the feeling was returned, or whether she was even treated with any dignity, didn’t come into it. 

Love became a lot more complicated in a human body. She found she still loved the Hunter. How could she not after all the time she had spent with him in the Hunter’s Dream, caring for him? Still, it had not felt the same. It felt less…all-enveloping. As if she did not need to look after the Hunter for her own emotional wellbeing anymore. She noticed how tending to him wasn’t at the forefront of her mind all the time. There were even several times a day where she felt compelled to do activities that did not involve him at all. This lack of care horrified her and she had started to wonder if her ability to love another person was actually fading. 

This had troubled her so much she lay awake crying over it for several days. Without being able to help it, this new body was altering emotions she wanted to remain the same. She wanted to love the Hunter, especially after all the effort he had gone through for her. To not do so just seemed so…ungrateful. Even when she had finally managed to spit it out to her companion, it had upset her that he had not seemed particularly worried. She had not liked it at all when he had encouraged her to instead embrace this change of feelings and asked her to follow it wherever it led her. 

Her feelings towards other people were even stranger. The Doll found that whenever she met someone new, she did not immediately like them anymore nor felt a desire to care for them. There was no immediate dislike either. Instead, she felt something she could only describe as neutrality and felt no other compulsion than to simply be polite. Politeness, she realized, that definitely had its limits when someone did not return the favor. A lot of times, it made her wonder if she was growing cold and if somehow, humanity was turning her into a worse person.

Yet as time passed, that fear had slowly started to dissipate. As her contact with other humans intensified, she noticed her disposition would gradually change. Depending on her interactions with them, her feelings towards people would alter. Sometimes it would improve, others it would diminish, but it would always change and she found herself no longer feeling guilty to walk away if the terms weren’t favorable to her. As she dealt with certain people for a longer time, she found herself perfectly capable of loving once more.

At the same time, she also learned there were different forms of love. The way she felt towards Fiona, Djura and other people she regularly visited in her free time was different than the way she felt towards several food vendors and store owners she got to know but was otherwise not involved with. They, in turn, did not evoke the same kind of butterflies she would feel at conversing with the cute boy at the bakery or the handsome miller’s son living on the city’s outskirts. Yet as a year passed and another followed, she realized that none of those feelings weighed up against what she would feel whenever she was near the Hunter. 

In time, she realized this was likely for many reasons. While her human friends undoubtedly cared for her, she never quite had the same history with them as with her companion. They had relied on each other for so long and their relationship had always been one of mutual respect and affection. Even if they argued or disagreed, he ultimately always made her feel good and happy about herself. She could not ever imagine giving up his company for anything, even if he wasn’t always in her thoughts or the goal of her actions. 

It was only then that she had finally stopped questioning whether she still loved the Hunter. She still did, perhaps more passionately than she ever did when she was a Doll. It was simply that as she gained the complexities of a human, her perception of love had matured.

With that said, however, she is not entirely certain of the Hunter’s exact feelings towards her these days. While he is undoubtedly fond of her, in the deepest and sincerest way possible, she sometimes wonders if there is something more to it. He has not spoken of the events in Yahar’Gul ever since that night and nothing similar has happened since. 

The Doll admits that some part of her finds this a pity. She had quite enjoyed that kind of attention on his part, even under those strange circumstances. Still, there is no point crying over spilled milk and she has decided to simply enjoy the relationship with her companion in its current parameter. 

She follows him towards the couch and places the food and drinks onto the simple table in front of it. She takes her own cup and starts sipping. Though she finds she prefers tea, she enjoys the bitter taste of coffee on occasion. Her companion, however, is quite an avid consumer of the drink and it isn’t long before he is already on his second cup. He turns to her.

“So, have you thought about visiting the city together again sometime soon? I heard they reopened the theater in Central Yharnam.”

A smile comes across her face. He knows she spends a lot of her time reading theater plays she can get her hands on. So far, she has never been able to see one played out and now that Yharnam is calming down, this seems like the opportune time. Besides, she enjoys spending time with him anyway.

“I did. And yes, I would like that. It will be nice to view some entertainment together. That is, if the judging stares of the Yharnamites do not bother you too much.”

The Hunter catches her mocking tone and chuckles. “I think I can handle those. I get plenty of them simply for being declared an enemy of the Church. I think I can handle some more for simply enjoying myself with my companion.”

She nibbles on one of the cookies and laughs quietly. “I have such a feeling they are judgmental because they think you _are_ enjoying yourself with me.” 

Suddenly, the Hunter goes quiet and stares at her. She doesn’t deign to look at him as she continues on her snack. By now, she is fully aware that many people in Yharnam think she and Hunter are lovers. The disparaging remarks Healing Church members have thrown her way readily informed her of that and even the Hunter’s many admirers have all asked at some point. 

Frankly, it does not surprise her that people assume this. Fiona has explained to her a long time ago that it is rare for an unrelated, unmarried man and woman to live together and that such things are heavily frowned upon. Due to their status as blasphemous troublemakers, many assume them to have extramarital relations and as she knows they’d refuse to believe her if she told them otherwise, she never bothered to try and dismiss these ridiculous tales. 

This, however, seems to be the first time the Hunter actually hears this gossip. He gives her the most dumbfounded expression she has ever seen and she quickly bites into her cookie to keep herself from laughing. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to find it a particularly funny matter.

“They truly say such disgusting things?”

The Doll shrugs her shoulders, not understanding his horror. “Considering our circumstances, it’s not all that surprising that ignorant, malevolent folk would think that. Do not worry yourself with such foolishness. It is of no importance.”

The Hunter, however, does not seem to agree. She can sense the anger rising within him and a hint of the rage he released in Yahar’Gul is boiling to the surface. Thankfully, she has learned to trust in his ability to keep it in at the appropriate times and simply reaches for another snack in the meantime. Once more, he doesn’t disappoint. 

He shakes his head vehemently. “It is! I would never… Not you… For them to think, even suggest I would consider doing… Never mind… Let's not go there.”

The Doll furrows her brow at him. She can’t help but notice just how quickly her companion scrambled out of the topic. He seems very embarrassed, almost as if he wants to pretend it never even came up at all and it is best she doesn’t hear about it. After two years in the human world, that attitude now feels less welcome than it feels pointless. She does not hesitate to let him know.

“Good Hunter, we've known each other for a long time now and have even seen each other in various states of undress under none too flattering circumstances. I see no merit in playing coy if you plan to address intercourse.”

The cookie that was on the way to the Hunter’s mouth drops to the floor as he gapes at her. “You…know about that?”

Not missing a beat, she responds in the most innocent voice she can. “Why, a certain someone taught me to read years ago. And book stores and universities are a great place to gain knowledge. I also found some educational literature seemingly belonging to one Nathaniel Forrester. He seems to live here, apparently.”

Upon hearing his own name, she can see the Hunter’s face turn red as he spits out the coffee and he mutters under his breath. “You truly are a wicked woman sometimes...”

She casts him a smirk. “The Gods weep for my soul. But did you truly think I did not know about such matters by now?”

Instantly, she can feel his discomfort increase. “I figured you would know a little by now, but I hadn't thought about it specifically, no… Not since that particular conversation anyway…”

Unable to stop herself, she lets out a small huff as she drinks the rest of her coffee. For some reason, his naïveté just bothers her. Does he still think her the same blank slate she used to be in the Hunter’s Dream? That she would not develop the ability to learn on her own? In order to adapt to a human existence, she had to lose a lot of her ignorance. Gaining knowledge about the supposed “taboo” subject had been one of them.

Of course, she hadn’t at all considered those aspects of human behavior when she was still adjusting to the mere basics of her new body. Surviving the more mundane things like eating and sleeping were already hard enough. Yet when the worst of it subsided, it hadn’t been long before the Doll had figured out that something was different about the area between her legs. Not just that it was different from the Hunter’s. She had understood men and women looked different even as a Doll. But when she gained a body of flesh, that area had changed drastically too. It was softer now, often moist and, she had noted with curiosity, very sensitive. She had soon figured out touching it felt pleasurable and she had eagerly set about exploring that fact.

At the time, she did not associate it with anything in particular. It just felt nice and it was simply a pleasant way to relief boredom or stress. She did, however, note the Hunter’s flushed face when she brought up the subject once and for the very first time he seemed to be genuinely uncomfortable with something she asked. Even so, he had told her it was completely harmless and normal, but that it was something that should be done in private. 

She had not understood his discomfort at the time. After all, this was the man who remained calm when her menarche had left blood all over the bed and he was the one to have to explain the process. What about this subject could upset him so? Even so, she had been glad to hear it was nothing abnormal and had continued doing it, gradually finding out where and what to touch for the most enjoyable effect. 

It was only after she learned to read that she realized there was more to it. Romantic novels, from the courtly kind to those not quite meeting conventional propriety, were swiftly becoming a guilty pleasure of hers. It was while reading a scene that no one would consider suitable for a good young lady that she first noticed something odd. 

The actions described, although not always performed with the same body parts, seemed very similar to when she would touch herself. The area between her legs apparently responded to the descriptions too. Warmth in her abdomen and wetness between her legs, the kind she would normally achieve by manual stimulation. It was only then that she linked the act to sexual activity, something she already knew people rarely addressed, and she had a hunch that this was what had made the Hunter so uncomfortable about it.

Yet, rather than cease the activity forever, she had instead wanted to know more and something told her she could not consult her companion for this. She had gone to the less reputable areas of Yharnam, as well as universities, to gather all she could find on the subject. Of course, she had already known how babies came to be, a side-effect of learning about her mensus, but it was intercourse that she wanted to know more about. She learned many interesting things from the many books and pamphlets she found and while she had already understood the concept of love at the time, she now also started to understand sexual attraction.

She also found out that imagining the acts described in her books made it easier to feel pleasure when entertaining herself. First, she didn’t imagine any particular person with her; just some vague male entity. Later, when she became better at relating to other people, she flirted with the image of several men she felt attraction towards. In time, however, she found her fantasies had always ended up with the Hunter.

This shift in feelings both surprised and amazed her. She marveled at just how complex her own feelings had become and just how much they could change over time. How pure and primal something like romantic love or lust could feel. Even so, she had never thought of acting upon it, seeing that there was little indication of mutual feelings. Perhaps, she realizes now, she was right to do so.

“I have been a woman of flesh and blood for two years now, Good Hunter. I may still not know everything, but I was bound to come and understand things like these as well. Can you really not conceive of me in such a way?”

She can practically feel the awkwardness levels rise from where she sits. “I can, but I'm not certain if I should.”

By now, all she feels is confusion. After all, is he not the one to educate her and encouraged her to become her own being? Is he not the one that taught her to function on her own and manage her own opinions, thoughts and feelings? How on earth could he not conceive of her as a person who understands things like love or even sexuality? She wants answers now and good ones at that.

The Doll gives him a serious look. “How so?”

What was once a quick snack and drink is quickly turning into a very uncomfortable situation. Even so, she is not planning to back down and the Hunter knows it. After several more minutes of painful silence, the Hunter responds. His words come out with great difficulty and he seems to deliberate on every word.

“Well, because of what it may imply… I love you, Evetta. I think you know that by now. I also don't think I am presuming things when I say you love me in return. But when it comes to these kinds of things, I do not want the kind of love that comes out of gratitude or obligation. That would not be fair to either of us, especially not you…”

The minutes pass by after he speaks and the Doll is not sure what to say. If she heard correctly, her companion just admitted to loving her and to be aware of her feelings in turn. Yet at the same time, he does not want to act on it, for fear a positive response is not truly her own. This baffles her. Indeed, she is not certain whether he is the most considerate person she ever met or the most needlessly overcomplicating buffoon. 

She knows she is still a long way from truly settling into humanity. In fact, it will probably take decades before she truly does. Still, she did not choose to stay with the Hunter out of a sense of obligation or having nowhere else to go. She has already matured enough to interact with other people and gained the skills needed to provide for herself. She could leave if she desires so, but she stays because she wants to. Because, of all the wonderful people she got to know, she cannot imagine any other person she would rather be with.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she reached out and takes his chin in her hand. He seems a little started at the touch, but she nonetheless moves forward. Before he can protest, she brings her head closer to his and finally returns the kiss she failed to answer in Yahar’Gul. She can hear him let out a surprised noise, but much to her delight, he doesn’t protest. 

It takes him a few moments before he responds. Rather than pushing her away, he grabs her arms and pulls her closer, kissing her passionately. It’s a little clumsy at first, but he soon grows more confident and the Doll finds she doesn’t want this moment to end. She finally breaks away and despite herself, she cannot help but giggle.

“Oh, good Hunter… You're a fool sometimes, arguing when there is no issue to be found. Have you learned nothing about me those two years?”

All she gets for a moment is silence. Then, however, he moves forward and kisses her head. The gesture is a tender one and she can’t help but smile.

He chuckles, seeming embarrassed. “Maybe I am… Allow me to make it up for you?”

She nods and butterflies erupt in her stomach when he kisses her again. She eagerly responds to his advances, not even revolted when he starts to offer the slightest bit of tongue. She doesn’t even mind when her back hits the couch and she can feel his hands trail all over her. Pleasant shivers go up her spine and for a minute, she is certain she can feel wetness between her legs.

Unfortunately, this exploration soon comes to an end when they both scoot a little too close to the edge of the couch. The Hunter only barely keeps himself from tumbling over and is quick enough to keep her from doing the same. They stare at each other for a moment, only for them to both laugh. She kisses his cheek with a smile. 

“Maybe we should go somewhere a little more comfortable…”

For a moment, she can feel hesitation seep back into his voice. “If you are fine with that…”

She nods as she sits up and takes his hand. She helps him off the couch and leads him to her room. Of course, she is aware that he already knows where it is but she still likes the idea and he is certainly not objecting.

Once there, neither of them wastes any time. Soon, his lips are on hers again and she can feel his hands slip under her clothes. She doesn’t stop him, instead enjoying the feeling of his hands on her bare skin. Goosebumps start forming all across it and she sighs a little. She prays that he will never stop and thankfully, he does not seem to have that intention.

She too soon feels enticed to do some exploring of her own. She is still coherent enough to find the hem of his shirt and pulls it up. The Doll blushes ever so slightly as she touches him. He’s no longer as skinny as when they first met in the Hunter’s Dream. His years as a Hunter have caused him to become leaner and more muscular. While this change surprises her a little, she finds she doesn’t mind at all.

Curiosity overtakes her and she starts to pull on his coat. She ignores his laugh and admonishing that she should be patient. As far as she’s concerned, she has been that way for long enough. It doesn’t take her very long to help him out of his clothes, though it soon becomes clear that he has no such luck with hers. She giggles as he awkwardly fumbles with the many layers, before taking pity on him. 

“Good Hunter, let me help you with that.”

He nods with slight embarrassment, but it is quickly forgotten as she helps him undo the complicated dress. It pools at her feet and the wrappings covering her more intimate parts follow after. The Hunter says nothing and simply takes in the sight of her as he helps her bare herself inch by inch.

Being naked near him is odd. She had expected to feel a lot more vulnerable and afraid. A lot more unsure of herself. Yet she doesn’t feel like that at all. If anything, it feels very natural. And in spite of the many comments by Yharnamite women that she is too tall or too skinny with too few curves to be a desirable prospect, the Hunter does not seem to share that sentiment at all.

“You're so beautiful.”

She can feel the heat creep up to her cheeks, but she doesn’t get the chance to say anything when he picks her up and puts her on the bed. Feeling its pleasant softness in her back, she grabs his hair and pulls him in for another kiss. He is glad to oblige and her excitement grows at feeling his wonderfully warm body flushed against hers.

It isn’t long before she can sense something else as well. An unfamiliar hardness is pressed against her leg and seems to become more insistent the more she moves against it. Understanding what it is thanks to her acquired knowledge on the subject, she reaches down and takes hold of his manhood.

The moment she wraps her fingers around it, she can hear the Hunter let out a sharp hiss. His body goes rigid and she applies a little more pressure out of curiosity. A throaty moan leaves the Hunter’s mouth, but she can tell it’s not one of pain. She smiles. A novel idea starts to form in her head and she starts moving her hands again, only more deliberately. 

The Hunter groans again, his entire frame shuddering. His body slowly starts to relax and as he does not offer any protest to her treatment, she wraps both her hands around him. She starts to slide them up and down, paying close attention to his reaction. 

“You like that?”

A dazed nod and some more grunts of delight are her reward. She becomes more confident and figuring he can handle a bit more force, she starts to apply some pressure along with her stroking. It isn’t long before he started to thrust himself into her hands, his breath quickening.

The Doll smiles as he nuzzles her shoulder, feeling his hot, heavy breath against her skin. She finds she enjoys seeing him like this. Wanting for her affection, eager for her touch. He may be God in the eyes of men, but tonight, he is simply her lover and it suits her well.

Then, out of nowhere, his hands find their way to her wrists. He grabs them and gently eases them away from his now fully erect manhood. She looks at him in confusion and his words sound pleading.

“S-stop. P-please stop.”

Surprised by his insistence, she gives him a concerned look. “Did I…do something wrong?”

He smiles, his face flushed. “N-no, not at all. You're doing a little too well, in fact. I don't wish to end this earlier than I have to.”

He sits up, gently easing her onto her back. “I want this to be memorable for both of us. How about you let me return the favor for a while? Before we do anything else?”

She nods quietly, suddenly feeling more than a little timid. She has some idea of what he has in mind and while she had spent plenty of time imagining it, actually going through with it is still hard to conceive of. It seems rather daunting, yet at the same time, she also can’t help but feel excited. 

She doesn’t get to think about the details for long. Suddenly, she feels two warm hands on her chest. She bites her lip as he gently massages the soft flesh, enjoying the feeling of his rough palms on her skin. His thumbs trace circles around her nipples, before brushing over them. She barely bites back a small mewl and fights her body from jerking at the shock of pleasure that goes through her being.

In a moment of distraction, he replaces one of his hands with his mouth. She can feel his tongue move against the now hard nub of flesh, curling around it and lightly grazing it with his teeth. She moans softly, trying to press her chest against his face, not even wanting to think about him moving away. She is so wrapped up in his attention that she isn’t even aware of one of his hands sliding down, moving itself between her legs.

The feeling of his fingers against her sensitive area caused her to become even louder. Embarrassed, she puts her hands in front of her mouth. The Hunter, however, is quick to stop his ministrations and pull them away, smiling at her gently.

“Don't do that. I want to hear you…”

She gives him a confused look, but nonetheless nods in compliance. She couldn’t bear for him to stop now. Thankfully, he doesn’t. His hand returns to her sensitive folds, gently kneading the flesh. His fingers then flick over the little nub at the apex between her legs and she can’t help but let out another cry. She unconsciously grinds her hips against him, urging him to continue. He obliges and starts to build up a slow, but pleasurable rhythm that causes the heat inside her to increase rapidly. It feels much better than her own ministrations and for a moment she wonders if this will be all she needs, only to feel a finger probing her womanhood before sinking deep within her.

Releasing a shocked gasp, she jerks at the sudden intrusion. It doesn’t hurt as she is already very wet, but it feels strange to have something inside of her that isn’t her own. Even so, she stills, waiting for him to continue. She feels how he slowly starts to pull his hand back again, but just as she thought he was going to remove it completely, he thrusts back into her, making her body jolt in response.

A strangled cry bounces off the walls and the Doll is embarrassed to realize that she was the one making such a noise. A swift repeat of the movement causes her to do it again and remembering his request, she doesn’t try to stop it. She looks back up at the Hunter and she can tell he very much enjoys the show. She blushes madly, but bit by bit, the weird sensation starts to fade away and is replaced by something else. A familiar feeling, but stronger and she finds it rather welcome.

The longer the Hunter continues his ministrations, the more she feels herself giving in to them. She doesn’t object when he adds a second finger, scissoring them a bit as he moves them in and out, causing a new, but inviting pressure to grow in her abdomen. She felt herself clenching involuntarily, moaning loudly and spreading herself a little further. She moves her hips frantically and when his fingers touches something inside of her that has her seeing stars, she simply prays that he won’t stop.

Unfortunately, he soon pulls back and she can barely contain a disappointed groan. He ignores it and wipes his fingers on the sheets. He then moves in for another kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth and she answers with excitement. He smiles at her eagerness, gently moving himself on top of her. She can feel his manhood against her entrance and she feels her face getting warm again. He chuckles, seeming a little nervous.

“Do you still want this?”

She giggles, feeling more than a little touched by his concern. “I think you know the answer to that. Good Hunter, what is it _you_ desire?”

He beams, affectionately pressing his forehead against hers. “You. Only you.”

Again, she finds herself blushing madly and she shyly accepts as he leans in to kiss her again. She gasps against his lips as he reaches down and continues to touch her weak spot, keeping her pleasured while he slowly enters her. She tries to unwind as best as she could, feeling how his hard, unyielding flesh presses against her womanhood and then breaches it. 

She gasps as she feels him enter her, but there is little to no pain. His earlier ministrations have made her slick and eager and he slides himself in to the hilt with very little resistance. He holds still afterward, kissing her while he gives her some time to adjust. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding him with a vice-like grip, but he hardly seems to care as he simply lies against her, enjoying her closeness.

Having him inside her is strangely pleasant, she finds. It is a snug fit and she feels rather full, but nothing about it feels invasive. In fact, she finds she likes the sensation of being stretched ever so slightly and soon, remaining motionless is no longer an option to her. She starts to experimentally shift her hips, glad to find no discomfort and letting out a pleasured sigh at the sensation.

The Hunter takes this as a cue to move. He starts in a slow, steady rhythm, carefully watching her for any signs of distress. When none of those show, he becomes a bit bolder. He increases his pace a little and she can see him grin when she gasps. As he thrusts into her, the reaction of her body starts to change. It feels completely different from private experiences and a faint hint of the old familiar heat she has felt before starts to return. She has to admit it might feel even better this time around.

The Doll finds herself trying to move her hips in rhythm with his, wrapping her legs around him in an effort to hold him close. He quickly catches on to her willingness to participate and before long, he puts more force behind his thrusts. A high-pitched squeak suddenly leaves her mouth. As he moves, he brushes against something inside of her that has her shudder. The surge of pleasure it caused catches her off guard, but before she can even recover, the Hunter starts moving more deliberately, hitting that spot over and over to the point of making her unable to think about anything at all.

She no longer holds back her moans, whispering in his ear as she can feel the heat inside her rise rapidly. “Good Hunter, I…”

Her scrambled mind makes it hard to form coherent words and the Hunter does not cooperate either. He cuts her off with a kiss. He growls softly as he pushes into her again, his pelvis grazing her outer nub and making her whimper. He kisses her neck, before running his tongue past her ear and causing her to shiver.

“Please say my name, Evetta. My actual name.”

At this point, she cannot even think of defying him on anything anymore. She wouldn’t want to either. Being underneath him, feeling his beating heart against her and him manhood inside her, all she can think of is the pleasure and intimacy between him. As he moves in and out of her, their fingers entwined and her own name whispered like a prayer, she says his name again and again and amidst the ever increasing desire, it is soon the only word she can remember. 

By now, all restraint is out the window as their lovemaking grows ever more passionate. Every new sensation is like fire to The Doll’s skin. She is writhing and mewling, violently clenching around him each time he enters her. She hungrily presses her mouth to his, dragging her nails down his back. The Hunter, on his end, was also happy to rise of to the occasion and she groans as he answers with the same enthusiasm, his hands grabbing her buttocks as he moves in even deeper and more forcefully.

By now, pleasure is shooting through her frame like small currents of electricity, rendering her practically unable of even simple speech. Her body is gleaming in sweat and her breath comes out in pants. The pressure inside her is rapidly building up without her being able to control it. Not that she wants to anyway. The Hunter seems to be feeling the same.

Determined to have her due, she simply follows his movements, lost in the heat of the moment. All she wants to do now was let him have her, fingers digging into his skin as she feels herself come apart. She moans shamelessly, the friction getting the better of her until finally the pressure within her reaching its boiling point.

Without warning, an intense wave of pleasure surged through her frame. She involuntarily arches her back, going rigid as her release took hold of her. Her cries are only barely muted by his passionate kisses and she desperately pulls him nearer. Her inner walls contract irregularly around him, a tingling sensation coursing through her veins. 

The delightful feeling of her climax makes her numb and she barely even notices it as the Hunter continues to thrust into her a little longer, before growling and reaching his own peak. She can vaguely sense a bit of fluid leaking out of her as he does, but right now, she was too occupied and content to even care.

She lies back, listening to her own irregular breaths and those of her lover’s. He’s still on top of her and inside of her, nuzzling her. She finds herself quite fine with this and doesn’t bother to disengage from him, simply enjoying his nearness as they both come down from their high.

At last, he recovers and pulls out of her. She can’t help but feel a sense of loss at this and she suddenly feels very empty. Luckily, he doesn’t waste time cuddling up to her and she revels at feeling his warmth against her as they both maneuver themselves under the blankets. He kisses her brow, before looking her over intently.

“I…hope I wasn’t too rough with you… I didn't hurt you, did I?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “If you did, you would have known. But you did seem rather eager. It must have been a long time since you last were with someone, is it not, good Hunter?”

Suddenly, the Hunter falls silent. She can see how he goes red in the face and an embarrassed expression comes over him. Even so, he speaks again after a few moments, his voice a little nervous.

“To be truthful, I have not been with anyone before... Women hardly fancied a studious, bashful young man suffering from consumption back in Great-Britain. This was a first for me too…”

The Doll can’t help but feel some surprise at that statement. Due to the double standards that human society seems rife with, she had expected him to have had a lover before, even though she knows he’s not a very outgoing man. To learn she is the first woman he has ever been with is something she did not expect, but she hardly finds this information upsetting. That he shares this with her is a sign of trust and it is beyond meaningful that he wished to share his first sexual experience with her, having her as his first as he was hers. And, she has to admit, it makes her feel rather honored. She kisses his lips and giggles. 

“Then I hope you felt as much pleasure as I did. You were quite astounding, good Hunter.”

He smiles at that and breathes a sigh of relief at the same time. “So were you, my sweet Evetta.”

She beams at his compliment. She lies against him, content to stay still as he absentmindedly runs his fingers through her loose silver hair. She drapes an arm over her chest and puts her cheek against it, listening to his heartbeat. Both of them are new at this and obviously, neither of them is well-versed at pillow talk. Still, that matters little to her.

Finally, he speaks up again. “So, do you still want to go see the play tonight?”

She looks up at him before looking towards the window. It is indeed not that late yet. Late in the afternoon at most. An excellent time, as far as she sees it. That still leaves them with ample time to recover from this little tryst, clean up, get dressed and enjoy a light meal before heading to the theater. She nods, sighing contently.

“I do, though it seems now that whatever rumors they will spread about us tonight, they are probably true.”

He grins at her, not showing the least bit of shame. “I don't see how that is a bad thing. Unless you are ashamed to be seen with a lover.”

She smiles. It feels good to hear him call her that. A “lover”, rather than simply a “companion”. A person to be loved and cherished, to share table and bed with. She cannot describe how amazing it feels to have that kind of recognition. To have someone give her that kind of respect. How _alive_ and _human_ it makes her feel. The Doll is certain she never felt any happier, but even now, her human nature cannot help but tease him.

“I do not think I ever could be. I love you, good Hunter, and if that riles up the Healing Church, that makes an outing on the town with you all the sweeter.”

He laughs at her jest, as she expected he would. By now, he knows whenever she is playing her games and she can’t help but feel he enjoys it tremendously. He gives her a tender kiss and pays her back in kind. 

“I love you too, Evetta. Even when you are secretly a wicked soul merely pretending to be innocent.”

She too laughs, knowing all too well he’s not serious. She simply gets under the covers a little more, deciding to enjoy this moment for all it’s worth. This, after all, was their first time of intimacy and she is certain there are many more to come.

At that moment, she realizes just how odd her existence is. How odd it is to be “born” a mere doll that was conditioned to love unquestioningly. To live in that state, residing in a Dream and being so close to the Gods, and then to be torn away from all of it by a person who questioned it all. A person who become a God himself and then saw fit to give her life. 

She is no longer that Doll. Not even in name. She has grown so much in these last few years. She has gained a name, a wide range of emotions and even the skills to look after herself without anyone’s assistance. She can jest, question, form an opinion, solve complex problems and learn and discover new things on her own. But most importantly, she can love. She can now love the Hunter without ever losing herself; the way only a human can. 

That love, she feels, is what truly makes her different. It is what truly makes her human, even if neither she nor the Hunter truly qualifies as those. This powerful emotion is the basis for their union of New Blood, in an ever-changing city built on the Old Blood and amorality of Great Ones. A complex emotion built on an ounce of empathy rather than a pound of twisted science like the one the Healing Church employs. If she can feel that kind of love and the Hunter feels it in return, it is enough for her to decide that, whatever may come, humanity is the greatest gift of all.

===============================================================================  
THE END


End file.
